Happy Hunter Games: Everbean Style
by MaddieMary
Summary: Katnit Everbean is shocked when she finds herself a tribute in the 74th Hunter Games with Peetal Mellurk. A parody of The Hunger Games.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N **So this is my little parody on The Hunger Games. If you've ever read 'Nightlight', the Twilight parody, you'll know why I was inspired to write this. I'm also writing this along side my other story 'The Enemy', and since that's my main priority (I want to finish it before MJ comes) updates may be a little slow until then.

Oh, and also- my title is a little lame, I realize this. Suggestions for a better title would be greeeatly appreciated.

**Disclaimer** I do not own any of the original characters in the Hunger Games, but I do own the characters in here that I made up myself. Suzanne Collins owns the original characters.

Chapter One

I walk to the fence, humming a show tune under my breath but trying to resist the urge to skip. My best friend, Gill, is already waiting in the woods, hunting.

It's technically not hunting, 'cause we don't hunt living animals. They would be way too hard to shoot. Instead, we shoot the apples hanging from the trees, and shoot the dead birds we can occasionally find lying around just for good measure before we cook them.

When we really want to be tricky, we throw the apples into the air for the other to shoot.

"Hey, look what I shot!" Gill says, holding up a piece of bread with an arrow through it. I giggle. I sit down as Gill abandons his knife and just rips the bread into pieces with his teeth. Alternating between my lap and his, he spits out the bread chunks. I pick up a sticky, saliva-y piece of bread and dig in.

"Huppeh Hunteh Gamsss," he says through a mouthful of bread.

"Lan scoobal the grooves," I begin.

"Be fravok weru scavor!" Gill finishes. We're imitating our escort from the Capitol, Effel Tinker. She speaks in a combination of four language—American sign language, Pig latin, Baby, and a language she and the Games mentor, Haymill Haberscathy, made up so they could tell each other secrets.

We hunt for the rest of the morning, and we find a dead bird. We brush the maggots off and declare it perfectly good to eat. When we get bored, we play hot potato with it, too. After we've collected five whole apples and our dead bird—enough to feed our families for twelve hours!—we have a race back to the fence and into the district. I win. I love hunting with Gill.

Juggling my apples, I head back to my house and see my little sister, Prill. She's stroking her pet worm, Cookie, and feeding it some dirt.

"Katnit!" Prim shouts. "Look at Cookie! He grew a sixteenth of an inch. Can't you tell?"

I smile and nod and walk into my house, where my mother sits, drawing up my bath. I don't trust her anymore, after what happened years ago. She dropped an ice cube down the back of my shirt, and I still haven't forgiven her. So when I get into the tub, I keep my back turned safely away from her. When she braids my hair, I pull at the collar of my dress to keep it tight in the back.

Prill looks me over when I'm ready. "Oh, Katniss," she says. "You—"

"Look beautiful?" I finish hopefully.

"Well, no. You have something…stuck in your teeth. Right there, no, one over. Yeah, there. Okay, you look fine."

The three of us head to the square, while Prill babbles anxiously about the reaping and wondering if the stress is getting to Cookie too.

In the square, thousands of desks have been set up for the reaping.

The reaping is an intense, timed multiplication test, in which all children ages twelve to eighteen must participate. Each year, they choose their tributes according to what place they finish in the test. It's a surprise number every year—last year, the girl who took 76th place in the test went, along with the 13th place boy.

Occasionally, kids try to cheat by blowing other people's papers off the table, stabbing others with their pens, and taunting the other children so much that they break down in tears and forget what 7 x 6 is.

As we take our place, Effel Tinker bounces around in the center of the square, tossing pens into the crowd and folding the tests into paper airplanes to send over our head. Haymill saunters up and they start conversing in their secret language, whispering in each other's ears and giggling.

Finally, when the entire district has arrived, Effel hollers until people stop talking.

"Appy-chay Loompa Crackdoposito! Lan scoobal the grooves be fravok weru scavor!" Effel screams into her megaphone, beaming. "Rabble! Krupit! GO!"

The crowd is watching carefully, caught up in the mad suspense of the tests. Momentarily, I forget what 9 x 5 is, but the paper of the person beside me helped me to remember. Effel keeps a close eye on the enormous hourglass in the center of the square. When the last drop of sand falls out the top, she screams "CRAF PLAT HOIDER!"

We think that means 'drop your pens,' though we're not really sure. We drop them anyway.

Peacekeepers rush in to grade the tests, brandishing their red markers. Effel drags up a huge chalkboard and starts writing in the scores. Instead of confusing us all with her meaningless babble, she talks to Haymill, who translates for us.

"This year we're taking the 54th place boy and the 22nd place girl," he says. "Our girl tribute is—"

This is when I get distracted by the pen laying on the ground next to me. A colony of ants has surrounded it and is trying to lift it off the ground. _Stupid ants! _I think cruelly, and raise my foot to smash all the ants, because they don't deserve to live. Oh, and also, I'm afraid they'll crawl in my shoe.

But I am interrupted by a small shriek, and look up to see a trembling blond head bobbing it's way through the crowd.

_Prill_.

I vault over the desks and race for that little blonde head. As she reaches Effel, I grab and toss her behind me. "I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute!"

"Who the heck are you?" someone says, and I turn to see that the little blonde girl is not Prill. I have no clue who she is.

"Wait…" I say. "Who the heck are _you_?" I turn to Haymill and Effel. "Hold on! Nevermind, I take it back, I don't volunteer! I was… kidding."

"Too late, cutie-patootie!" Haymill growls. "Who the heck are you, anyway?"

"I…" I draw myself up. "Am Katnit Everbean."

"Yeah whatever. This is cutie-patootie, your female tribute!"

I receive wild applause. No, just kidding. Everybody's talking amongst themselves, only a few are still paying attention. So Effel screams again and they all look over. This time, Effel wants to announce the boy tribute.

"Shalabay cruppa muq wilt pashay!"

I translate this to "And now the boy tribute!"

Effel consults her massive chalkboard before declaring, "Sheepil Vicrut!"

Everyone in the ground exchanges looks.

"Is there a Sheepil Vicrut here?"

"Yo, Sheepil!"

"Speak up, Sheepil!"

"Who's Sheepil Vicrut?"

"Whatever!" a boy shouts from the crowd. "Here, you just go up." He nudges a blond-haired, blue-eyed boy.

Together, all the boys start to shove the blond boy up towards Effel. "This is… uh, Sheepil! Meet Sheepil! Here he is!" they all say, and then run back to their desks.

"Actually, I'm Peetal," the boy announces.

"You're name's Petal?" Haymitch snorts.

"No. Peetal. Like pee with a tal. Pee-tal."

"Hm. Nice to met you, Petal," Haymitch says.

But I can't even concentrate on Effel and Haymitch's words as they introduce us. That's because Gill is making silly faces in the crowd, and I'm trying to keep a straight face.

The minute the crowd begins to disperse, Peackeepers throw me and Peetal over their shoulders and head for the Justice Building. It's extremely uncomfortable.

"Hello," I say to the Peacekeepers butt. "Would you mind setting me down?"

In response, he passes gas.

Inside the Justice Building, I am set down on a couch where I will meet my visitors. First comes Marge, who's in a huge rush.

"Hey, Katnit. What's up? Not much, I'm good. Here, take this pin, okay? I'll pin it to your shirt." And she does, even though she actually scoops up a bit of my skin with it. "Okay, great, bye, Katniss!" And she kisses me on the cheek so fast I think I might have imagined it.

Next comes my mother, Prill, and Cookie. I hug them all at once, trying to be careful for Cookie.

"Listen," I tell them. "Go to Gill for food. His family won't mind, I'm sure they have more than enough to eat. There's really no need to pay him back for it or something, either. He's just that nice. Okay?"

We exchange more hugs and kisses. After blowing one last kiss to Cookie, they leave.

Finally, Gill is here. I fling myself into his arms, knocking him against the wall with a loud _thump_.

"Oops, sorry," I say, as a lump on the back of Gill's head swells.

"No problem Katnit," he says. "Listen I wanted to tell you someth—"

"Really? That's cool." I interrupt. "I wanted to tell _you _that—"

"All right, time's up!" A Peackeeper pokes his head in the doors and shouts.

"Another minute?" I plead, using my puppy-dog eyes, but he comes in and tosses Gill over his shoulder too. The ceiling is a little low so Gill gets his head thunked again.

"Katnit!" he cries, as the Peacekeeper struts out and Gill's head smacks repeatedly against the Peacekeeper's lower back/butt region. "I had to tell you—"

"And I just wanted to say—" I cry

And then the door closes his words are cut off. Ah, well. Probably wasn't that important anyways. I actually kinda forgot what I wanted to say to him anyways.

Then the Peacekeepers come and I am whisked off to the train. As we pull out and head for the Games, I remember a song that I liked.

_On the road again_

_Just can't wait to be on the road again_

I only know those two lines, but I sing it for hours.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

When I wake up in the morning, I roll over to my side and fall back asleep again. Then I wake up for a second time, flip onto my back this time, and fall asleep again. When I wake up next, I'm laying on the floor, cradling the vase that was sitting on my bedside table. Hm. Weird.

I abandon my attempts on sleeping and decide to get dressed. I see a glint of gold on the floor and remember the pin that Marge gave. Taking a closer look, I see that the pin is really a lovely gold bird—at least, I think it's lovely. I can't really tell, the head of the bird has snapped off. The bird is surrounded by a thick circle. There are thin little gold bars running vertically across the whole pin. Like a jail cell!

It's my favorite piece of jewelry yet. Actually, it's my only piece of jewelry.

I find a scarf that I use to wrap around my body and act as a shirt, dress, and pant outfit all rolled up into one. I moonwalk down the hallway to the dining car.

Haymill is sitting in a rocking chair in the corner, with a gallon jug of Welch's grape juice in his hands. Peetal is combing his hair and checking his reflection in a spoon, smiling and winking and letting out the occasional giggle.

Haymill glances up as I walk into the room.

"Look, it's cutie-patootie!"

"Katnit!" I huff.

"Of course," he says.

Just then, Effel runs in.

"Pleebop hulu to smackbok tra crich, crich, crich pray!" she squeals happily. Peetal and I look to Haymill for translation, who shrugs and gives it his best shot.

"Today's a ketchup of big, big, big egg. I think."

"Harte!"

"No, that's not right. Say it again, Effel."

"Pleebop hulu to smackbok tra crich, crich, crich pray!" Effel tries again.

"Ahhh… Today's going to be a big, big, big day." Haymill tips his grape juice bottle up and downs a quarter of it, dribbling purple juice down his shirt. The dribbles create lots of purple polka dots on his shirt. I may have to borrow it sometime.

"So, Haymill," I say casually. "Aren't you supposed to give us advice about the Games?"

Haymill shrugs, looking unconcerned. "Well, technically, but psh! You guys look so… I mean, you're just so… tough and strong. You don't need my help."

I nod. Tough and strong—that's very true. I kill spiders for my mother all the time at home, and trust me—those suckers are fast.

Peetal nods as well, setting down his spoon and doing a final fluff-up on his hair.

Effel draws our attention to the train window with a shriek, pointing out the window.

"It's the Capitol!" I say. I'm really starting to understand Effel.

"Harte!" Effel squeals.

"No, no, not the Capitol," Haymill says. "It's a spider. There's a spider on the window."

"No way!" I cry, leaping up. "Let me kill it! I'm excellent at that."

But there's nothing near for me to smash the bug with, and so I take Peetal's head and crush the bug with it, smashing his head right into the window. He was sitting closest.

"Ow!"

"Sorry."

The moment the train pulls stops, Peacekeepers rush in to grab Peetal—who's still whining about the bug guts in his hair—and me. This time, they scoop us up like married people on their wedding day. It would've been rather cozy, but I recommended some deodorant to my Peackeeper. Very kindly, of course

I am ushered into a plan looking room, with one huge white chair in the middle. It's surrounded with cart and little tables, and there are ropes and little metal wires protruding from the seat. One thought crosses my mind—torture device.

My second thought is _run_. I turn and try to race out of the room, but my Peackeeper grabs me and tosses me onto a chair.

Like some sort of human bait, I see three blobs of color come rushing out of the shadows, drawn to me.

"Katnit!"

"Hello Katnit!"

"Sup?"

The weird blobs are grabbing the wires and ropes and strapping me to the seat.

"Hoooold still!"

"HEY! Don't bite!"

"Oh my God! She drew blood!"

Finally, I am left strugging against the restraints while three people line up in front of me, finished tying me down. I stretch my foot out and attempt to pinch them between my two toes.

The three odd people line up in front me, and I scream. I had been developing a growing suspicion that these three blobs were not people, but I was wrong. It was worse. Each one had fallen victim to the ridiculous Capitol fashions. Possibly even the worse fashion yet.

Face rearranging.

"I'm Venius!" screeched a woman with eyes on either side of her head, and a mouth under her chin. She had to tilt her head back to talk to me.

"I'm Flavia," said a guy, turning around to talk me. He had eyes in the back of his head, and a mouth on top of it.

"And I'm Activia," a woman—I think—beams, with one mouth on either side of her head.

The rest of their facial features are arranged in odd places over the rest of their head, so to hear and see and talk to me, they have to constantly keep turning around and around.

"I'm Megan Fox," I say slyly, because I don't want these people hunting me down for a cup of tea or something. But instead of just accepting this—in my defense, I think I look just like Megan Fox—they burst into laughter.

"Bahahaha… SILLY!" Venius cackles. "You're Katnit Everbean!"

"Oh, oops. I forgot."

For the next three hours, they use a tweezers to pluck every single piece of hair from my body (Even my toe hairs!), make me take a shower in acid rain, and they sing little songs when doing this. It's absolute torture.

Finally, they attack my face with little brushes and sticks of globby mascara, and finish everything off by putting me in a lovely blue dress with a matching shawl.

"Awwww, she looks so precious!" they coo. "Let's call Chinna!"

They cartwheel out of the room, except for Activia, who's a little pudgy and has to lay down and roll out the door.

Twenty-six seconds later (I counted) the door opens and a man dressed plainly in black steps into the room, a serene smile upon his face. He's humming something that sounds suspiciously like 'Burning Up' by the Jonas Brothers.

"Ah, hello, Katnit," he says kindly, and then flicks a switch besides him. The walls burst into flames.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhh!" I scream, horrified, as Chinna stands in the doorway, laughing maniacally. Frantically, I try to rip the restraints right out of the seat in my mad attempts to escape. Then he seems to notice me and rushes over to untie me. The minute he removes the last restraint, I leap up and dash for the switch on the wall. When I press, the fire soaks into the walls and leaves the room exactly as it had been moments before.

Chinna gives me a look of disgust and flings himself onto the couch in the corner of the room. "Party pooper," he mutters under his breath.

I sit down next to him. "I'm sorry, Chinna."

He says nothing.

"I'm sorry, Chinna," I say again.

Chinna sighs, still annoyed. "It's okay, Katnit," he says wearily. "My music will do."

He picks up a remote and directing it at a speaker implanted in the ceiling. I'm guessing it's there because he doesn't want it destroyed when he flicks his fire switch. Soft music starts to play.

_Love is a burning thing_

_And it makes a fiery ring_

_Bound by wild desire_

_I fell into a ring of fire_

"So, Katnit," Chinna says, sitting up. "I have some fantastic ideas for your entrance. You're not afraid of fire, are you?"

"No," I lie bravely.

"Good, because here's the thing," Chinna's demeanor is changing—slowly the corners of his mouth are curving up, his eyes are growing wild, and I swear his hair is starting to smoke. "In District 12, you mine coal. What do you do with coal? You burn it. I had originally created this synthetic fire for you to wear, until I realized that nothing compares to… real fire." He looks like a maniac now. It crosses my mind that Chinna's calm and normal demeanor masks a complete madman.

"We're going to stick you in a black garbage bag, like a fat ol' piece of coal, then light you up… with _real _fire!" Chinna cries as Johnny Cash hits the chorus.

_I fell in to a burning ring of fire_

"You must RUN through the city in REAL FLAMES!" he shouts excitedly.

_I went down down down and the flames went higher_

"And just before it burns your flesh—"

_And it burns burns burns_

"We'll have one of the prep team members dump a bucket of water on you, stick a new burning garbage bag on you, and set you off on another run!"

_That ring of fire…that ring of fire_

"_Excellent_, eh?" Chinna beams proudly.

An hour later, I'm fidgeting in my black garbage bag while Chinna dances around me with a torch, humming 'Play With Fire' by the Rolling Stones.

Peetal wanders over, yanking at the collar of his garbage bag.

"Chinna," he complains. "Doesn't this trash bag make me look fat?"

Chinna opens his mouth to deny it, but then stops. "Well, look on the bright side. Nobody will notice when you're on fire."

This year, we've skipped the chariot and instead are going to just sprint as fast as we can to where the first bucket of water is, manned by Activia. Peetal and I line up after District 11's chariot, nervous.

Finally, it's time to start. Chinna runs up and lights us on fire with his torch.

"RUN!" he screams madly. "And mold pans!"

"What?" I ask Peetal, confused, but he's already taken off. He dives under District 11's chariot, vaults over 10's, and rolls around 9's while I try desperately to follow.

When we come into the view of the audience they begin to scream, whether out of fear or excitement I don't know. A few reach their hands out to us, but whether to touch us or kill the flames I don't know. I feel the fire starting to burn through the plastic bag, and see Activia waiting on the side of the road, filling a bucket of water with a fire hose.

Someone throws a rose at my face and I catch it, and am about to sniff it before I realize it's on fire. So I throw it back to them.

"Katnit! Katnit!" they cry, loving me. I smile, caught up in the moment and am about to strike a pose. The crowd wants more.

"Your hair is on fire!" they shout. Oops. I take off again, and Activia eagerly throws the bucket of water as I draw closer. She misses. All the water splashes to the ground right in front of me.

"Wait!" she screams. "Wait!" She drags out her fire hose and starts to spray Peetal and me. Finally, when we have been extinguished, she smashes another garbage bag over our heads and Chinna runs up with his torch.

"Amazing!" he screams. "You're amazing! Let's go."

And off we go again.

When Peetal and I finally stumble into the training center, Flavia enthusiastically hoses us down, and Haymill, Effel, Activia, Venius, and Chinna gather around us, babbling.

"Perfect!" Chinna exclaims, fingering the ends of my hair that were seared off from the fire. "We won't even have to trim your hair!"

Peetal is carefully fingering his eyebrows, which are mostly burnt off, Haymill is chugging his grape juice, Effel is talking about 'prapcha kurls', the prep team is rolling up their fire hoses. They're all babbling excitedly.

"Amazing!"

"Do you feel a little fried?"

"Peetal, what did you do to your eyebrows?"

"Katnit, I think a bit of your hair is on fire… right… there!"

Effel insists that we go up to our floor in the Training Center arm in arm, and Chinna leads us in a rousing chorus of 'Light My Fire'.

**A/N **So, today's 'You are Awesome Award' goes to Telehphone, for helping Chinna be the nutso pyromaniac he is today. Thank you. xD Oh, and thanks to my little sister for helping me with my ideas.

Wait, one more thing- sorry if this chapter isn't as funny as the last one. I feel like it was a bit of a fail. Lemme know.

WAIT! Last thing, promise! If anybody has any suggestions for future chapters, I'd be happy to hear them. If they're super awesome and hilarious, there's a good chance I'll use 'em.

Reviews? ;)


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N **As it turns out, vacation is an excellent time for writing. :) Thanks for all the suggestions I got.

Enjoy!

Chapter Three

The next morning, Haymill wakes me by dumping a jug of grape juice on my head.

"Up and at 'em, cutie patootie," he growls, stumping out of the room.

I dress in a puke-green scarf, put my headless mockingjay pin on, and walk down the hall to the sitting room.

"Chug! Chug! Chug!" Peetal screams as Haymill tips his bottle up. "Yayyy!"

Effel comes rushing in then. "Crackpot cu seena!"

"Um, good morning?" I guess.

Haymill slams the empty grape juice on the table. "Training is today!"

"Ooh! Ooh!" Effel cries. "Papa carue!"

"Yes, yes, you can escort them, Effel."

And escort us she does. She grabs our hands before we cross the hallway, she holds open the elevator door so it won't shut in on us and 'garble' us, she smoothes our hair and re-ties Peetal's tennis shoes. She holds the Training Center door open for us and finally, rolls out a red carpet for us to walk up to the other tributes. Before she leaves, she blows us three kisses each and wishes us 'sentoo verna.'

A man with sparkly red shoes and gray hair pulled back into a ponytail is laying on the floor, taking a nap. All twenty-four tributes are standing in a ring around him, watching him snore. Peetal and I take our place.

After about twenty minutes of this, one of the tributes throws a chicken leg at the guy's face. Gently, of course. Slowly, the guy sits up, staring at us.

"Oh, my, is it that time already?" he warbles, using another tribute to stand up. "Get me some water!" Somebody throws a bucket of water on him. "Thank you."

He directs us all to sit on the floor around him, and proceeds to give us our instructions.

The training, it turns out, is a misnomer. It's not training for the Games. It's not training for anything, really.

Unless, of course, being a professional dancer/rapper/singer is high on your to-do list.

"Now then," the old man says, striking a pose. "You all know that for this year's training, we will be doing a competition of song and dance routines."

Peetal pumps his fist and whispers, "Yes!"

"You will be partnering up with your fellow district tributes, as well."

Peetal nudges me. "I call the song and dance solo!"

"And GO!" the old man shouts, then resumes his nap on the floor. Right away, Peetal grabs my arm and drags me over to the CD selection.

"Now listen," he says quietly, looking around to make sure nobody's eavesdropping. "I took ballet as a kid, and I'm an expert at interpretive dance. I think I'm the one for the song and dance solo, right?"

I nod, and Peetal whips around and starts rifling through the CD rack.

I reach over his shoulder and pull out a random CD. "How about…" I consult the title. "The Essential Michael Jackson?"

"The who?" Peetal says, and knocks the CD out of my hands without looking. "Oh, perfect, I got it!" he says finally, holding up a CD.

Peetal spends ten minutes plotting out a complicated dance routine, leaving a whole minute for his song and dance routine. He tries to wake up the napping dude to ask for a microphone and some props—somethingsomethingsomething—but the man wouldn't wake up. I think he might've died.

Finally, Peetal starts to teach me the dance routine, but it doesn't go well. He stomps his foot when I spin in the wrong direction, runs his fingers angrily through his hair when I forget the next step, and eventually he collapses to the floor and curls into the fetal position, moaning about how we're going to lose. After he counts slowly to ten, ten times, he stands back up.

"Okay, Katnit," he says, gulping in deep breaths. "Let's start it again." He saves his solo dance until the performance in front of the Gamemakers, to keep it 'fresh.' Not even I can see it beforehand.

Five hours later, Peetal is sweating profusely and doing stretching exercises when someone comes into the training room and announces that it's time for the performance. While the rest of us amble slowly for the door, Peetal sprints for it, lifting his knees high to get extra stretching in. All twenty-four of us are led into an auditorium. A table of Gamemakers is set before a stage lit with pink spotlights.

"Katnit!" Peetal moans in my ear. "Pink light makes me look too pale and peaky."

The Gamemakers call the tribute pairs up to the stage one by one, and three of the Gamemakers give their opinions after the dance is over. I suffer through biased commentary by Peetal Mellurk.

"Haha, did you see that sequined vest?" He snorts. "Cartwheels are _never_ a good finale, remember that, Katnit."

Before I know it, it is our turn, and when I don't move fast enough to the stage Peetal picks me up and runs with me.

"Hello!" he announces to the Gamemaker's panel. "I'm Peetal Mellurk."

"Petal?" one Gamemaker snickers.

"No!" Peeta says indignantly. "Peeeeetal. Emphasis on the peeeeeee."

"All right, well, what do you have for us?" a second Gamemaker asks.

Peetal backs up, and hisses, "Get in position!", then cues the music.

_There's gonna be one less lonely girl_

_One less lonely girl_

_There's gonna be one less lonely girl_

_One less lonely girl_

Peetal starts dancing with a big smile on his face, and I shift slightly behind him so I can just copy what he does, but I still manage to do the wrong dance moves. When he does his backflip, I back off, because that's his solo cue.

It's weird, though. He keeps shooting little looks at me, nervously, every time Justin Bieber sings 'one less lonely girl'. Which is a lot. And then he starts singing, in a high-pitched voice that cracks on the high notes.

"One less lonely girllll," he warbles, doing the Egyptian. Finally, he does his second backflip to signify the end of his song and dance routine, and as I'm heading to center stage again I trip over Peetal, who's doing the Worm across the stage.

"Arghhhh!" Peetal moans, rolling over, as I peel my face off the floor.

And that's how our song and dance routine ends. With the way Peetal's smiling, you can tell he thinks the Gamemakers are in speechless awe, but it looks more like stunned shock to me.

"Uh…" one says. "Well… meet your judges. Andy, Abby-Paul, and Imon. Andy?"

Andy was the Gamemaker who was bald with hair tattooed on his head. "Awright, dawg, ya know, that was…" He struggles. "Weird. But man, dawg, that was some backflip. Ah. I mean. Dawg."

The woman with purple eyes twice the size of a normal eyeball, Abby-Paul, is next. "First of all, let me just say, you guys look great. Fabulous. And I thank you so very much for coming out here to see us. You seem like such great, nice people. But I have to say, your performance was… very interesting. Imon, do you have anything do add?"

"That was…" Imon says, resting his chin on his hand. "Horrible. Horrible. I felt like I was listening to the entertainment in hell."

Peetal nudges me and whispers, "That's code for 'excellent.'"

Abby-Paul slaps Imon's shoulder. "Imoooon! Be nice!"

Andy sighs. "Dawg. Dismissed."

Later that evening, Chinna, his stylist partner Porca, Haymill, Effel, Peetal, and I are gathered in the sitting room waiting for results. Haymill's drinking again and Peetal is curling his eyelashes to ' relieve stress' he claims.

Finally, Caesar Flickerman appears, announcing that the scores are ready to reveal. Peetal squeals and hurries to the television, plopping down on the ground right in front of it.

Peetal waits agonizingly through the first 11 scores, moaning when someone gets an especially high score. The pair from District 2 is impressive- _ten_. Peetal smashes his fist into his palm. District 11 scores a nine.

Then, Peetal's and my faces, Photoshopped sloppily together (unless his head really _is_ that large, compared to my pinhead), appear on the screen.

Eleven!

Peetal leaps to his feet, howling in shock.

"Great job!" everyone is saying, but when Effel reaches out to pat him on the back he bites her finger.

"KATNIT!" he screams. "God! Just… God! I can't believe we got an eleven!"

"W-what?" I say.

"I wanted a twelve!" Peetal sobs, and tears down the hall to his room.

Just then Porca sets down the laptop she's been using. "Um, guys? I just got a message from the president on Facebook… Katnit and Peetal actually got a one. Somebody messed up and typed the one twice on the computer. They got executed, B.T.W."

"What's B.T.W?" Haymill asks.

"L.O.L." Porca laughs. "Haymill! It's 'by the way'!"

I shrug and start to leave the room. Porca stops me.

"But, Katnit," Porca says. "I wouldn't mention the real score to Petal. I mean, Peetal."

I nod, and leave Porca to teach the rest of the group more computer lingo.

That night, I get thirsty and decide to wander down to the sitting room to possibly steal some of Haymill's grape juice. But I stop short when I see a shadow moving slowly down the hall. It's Peetal, heading for a door at the end of the hall. He slides down the hall with his back against the wall, spy-style. He holds his hands together with his pointer fingers up to make a fake gun.

"Pew pew!" He makes gun noises, pointing his pretend gun at nothing in particular. Then, he does a dive roll and smashes his head into the door. He gets up, disoriented, and takes a couple tries to get the door open. Finally, he disappears, shutting the door quietly behind him.

Hm. I am suspicious of Peetal Mellurk.

There is something wrong with that boy.

Carefully, I creep down the hallway, opening the door and dashing up the steps beyond. I find that the door leads onto the roof of the Training Center. Near the edge off the roof I find Peetal, sitting and singing quietly to himself.

Making a corn husk doll.

I knew there was something wrong with that boy.

Peetal looks up. "Ah, Katnit," he says, sliding his half-completed doll behind his back. "Uh… like… whassup?"

I sit down beside Peetal.

"Hi, Peetal."

Peetal sighs. "Look, Katnit. I have something to say."

I wait. For nearly five minutes. Peetal seems to be turning purple, so I nudge him.

"I'," he bursts out, then lets out a big breath. "Forgiveness?" he pleads, unleashing puppy dog eyes on me.

"Sure, Peta—Peetal. Peetal, sorry. Forgiveness," I say.

Peetal smiles, and just like in a teeth whitening commercial, I swear his front tooth twinkles. "Would you like to see my corn husk doll?" he asks sweetly. "I can teach you how to make one, if you like."

Frankly, dolls were never my thing. Dead squirrels? Now that was my thing. But not dolls.

"Uh…sure, Peetal," I say politely, and then Peetal whips out the supplies, his own doll as an example, and begins blabbering excitely.

"—and then you take this part right here—"

"Yep. Yep. Cool."

An hour later, I show Peetal my finished doll—a three-legged, two-headed wonder that, in my frustration I tried to chuck off the building but it hit the force field instead and now had a fried brown patch on it's belly.

"Awww, it's so precious!" Peetal coos. Then he displays his finished doll. "Now we must name them! I choose the name… Katpit!"

Cat pit? What a weird name. I wonder what inspired that.

"I think I'll name mine… Prill," I say, and Peetal's face falls.

"Are you sure you don't want to name it… maybe… oh, I don't know… Peetal?" he suggests hopefully.

"Nah. I like Prill."

We sit in silence for a few moments while Peeta plays with his finished doll, making it run across the roof, up my arms, and dance on my head.

"Pahaha!" he cackles. "It got you, Katnit!" His doll attacks my face. "Rawwwrrr!"

Eventually Cat pit gets bored pinching my nose, and Peetal puts his doll down for anap.

"So," Peetal says finally, rubbing his doll's back. "Are you worried about the Games?"

"Eh…" I start modestly. "No. I'm excellent at surviving.

"Oh, gosh, I _know_," Peetal says. "I've watched you and Gill hunting and—I mean, cool. _Very_ cool."

"What about you?" I ask him. "Are you concerned?"

Peetal thinks about this. "I don't know. I mean, when I'm in the Games, I don't want to… change."

"Uh, what?" I say, having been distracted by a bee flying into the force field. It dies as it hits the force field.

"I just…I just don't want to change in there. I'm more than just a piece in their Games. I'd rather be a petal on a flower. I was born to be—" he sits up straighter. "A florist! Because what if I'm in the Games, and I hit my head really hard, and I forget my love for flowers? That's what I mean—I don't want them to change me in there."

The bee has fallen and sits on the very ledge of the building, just outside the force field. I have a desperate urge to go try to blow it off until I realize Peetal is still talking to me.

"Wow, Peetal," I say, pretending to have listened. "That's really cool."

When I look over at Peetal five minutes later, I see he's asleep, curled up on the roof cradling Katpit. There's a little booger in his nose that flutters every time he breathes.

He looks adorable.

Then I slide down the stairs (on my butt, of course, cause it's so much more fun that way) and go back to my room. Within minutes, I'm asleep, dreaming of Peetal's face on the petals of a daisy.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N **Here's a pretty long chapter (at least, for me it is) for ya. Thanks for all the awesome reviews I got! :) It's a little sad, but this story itself is doing better than all three of my other stories combined.

Next chapter is the Games, woot woot. My request for suggestions is still a go, in case anybody has any ideas for the Games. They inspire me. ;D Anyways, I'll shut up. Go read.

Chapter Four

Today, I wake to find someone leaning over me. They have huge, brown eyes and red hair that tickles my face.

"Ahhh!" I scream, and the red-headed girl jumps back, surprised. "Who are you?" I demand.

In response, she pulls a bag of Scrabble chips out of her pocket, plops to the ground, and spells out 'YOUR WORST NIGHTMARE.' Then she busts into silent laughter.

"What are you doing here?" I ask next.

WAKING YOU UP, she spells.

Then—

SCARING PEOPLE IS FUN

I take a closer look at this girl. She reminds me of someone…

"Hey!" I blurt. "I've seen you before!"

The girl, looking nervous, and spells out 'WHERE.'

"You were in the Capitol's sparkling teeth commercial!" I remember her now.

Then she grins, showing me her sparkly pearly whites and winking. I burst into laughter.

"I _love_ that commercial!" I tell her, and she gives me a thumbs-up

We are just about to start a game of Scrabble when there's a knock at the door.

"Katnit? There's someone here who wants to seeeee you!" It's Peetal, at the door.

BOYFRIEND, the girl spells with a sly grin, but I fake-barf and shake my head. She giggles silently. I go and let Peetal in.

There he stands, with his hair in curlers and Cat pit in his arms.

"Morning!" he says cheerfully. "Look Katnit, I've been up since seven twenty-eight doing this." He holds up Cat pit, and turns her around. I can see he's written 'Lil' K' in tiny rhinestones across Cat pit's butt.

Behind Peetal, the red-headed girl spells out 'WHO IS THIS GIRL.' I stifle my laughter in the blankets, pretending to wipe my noise as a cover.

"Katnit, do you want me to rhinestone your doll too?" Peetal asks, looking around. "Where is your doll, Katnit?"

I point to my closet, where it's laying on the floor among my dirty socks. Peetal lifts it up, and, cradling it in one arm, gives me a wave and leaves the room.

I turn to the red headed girl.

"What's your name?" I ask curiously.

I DONT LIKE MY NAME

She scrambles the letters and continues.

YOU CAN CALL ME FRIEND

"But what's your real name?" I press.

MY NAME IS ANALISIA PARAMAWNGUATO AVOX BUT SINCE NOBODY

She scrambles her tiles for more letters.

CAN REMEMBER THAT THEY JUST USE MY LAST NAME.

THEY CALL ME THE AVOX GIRL

The Avox girl collects her tiles and stuffs them back into her Scrabble bag. Her real name sounds like Effel trying to wish everyone a good morning.

Then Effel is at my door, wishing us 'analisia paramawnguato'. I look back for the Avox girl, but she's disappeared. She left behind one of her blank Scrabble chips, so I tuck it in my pocket and follow Effel down the hall.

Today is the day of the interviews. Haymill and Peetal are the only ones in the room. Peetal is crouching behind the breakfast bar, feeding his corn husk doll sips of the grape juice he stole from Haymill. Haymill is unaware of that and is searching the rest of the room madly for his grape juice, including behind the curtains.

Effel squeals a little bit until Peetal and Haymill join us at the dining table. Haymill has discovered Peetal with the grape juice and dumped it all over Peeta and his doll. Peetal's sniffling sadly at his purple doll. Haymill is in a very bad mood.

"All right," he growls. "Today Effel and I train you. We can train you separately or non-separately. What will it b—"

"Non-separately!" Peetal bursts. "Uh, I mean, is that okay Katnit?"

I shrug.

"Fine then," Haymill says. "Leave me in peace and go with Effel first. She's teaching you about all that etiquette…stuff. Good-bye. Bye!"

For the next four hours Effel teaches us all about etiquette stuff. At first, she only has me working on the high heels and dresses, but after she realizes that she doesn't know what to teach Peetal, she makes him participate in the high heels and dress segment too.

Unfortunately, Peetal can walk better than I can in high heels and a dress. I wonder if he's been secretly practicing.

Then Effel moves to teaching us about our facial expressions when we talk. From what I gather, she thinks I have too vacant a face, and Peetal has so happy a face it's almost scary. We repeat a whole bunch of nonsense, while Peetal tries to not look scary and I try to look like I'm not a zombie.

"Oobleck da pooha!" Effel says.

"Oobleck da pooha." Peetal uses his hands to press down on his cheeks, to keep himself from smiling.

"Oobleck da pooha." I use my hands to push the corners of my mouth up.

Effel frowns at the two of us.

By the end of the session, I'm afraid I've forgotten how to speak normal English.

"Gamha, Haymi—I mean, hello, Haymill," I greet my mentor, trying to be polite, as I walk into the room. But I see he's sleeping, half of his face is resting in a puddle of grape juice on the table. Peeta finds a basketball and throws it at his head. Haymill straightens up and we see that half of his face has been stained purple from his juice.

Haymill grumbles, "Are you ready for my session?"

Trying to rub off his purple stain, he leads Peetal and me back down the hallway into a white, padded cell.

For the next twenty minutes Haymill just stares Peetal and me down. Finally, he sits back and takes a swig of juice.

"All right," he says. "I have tuned into your brain waves, decided that Peetal is ready for his interview, and should now leave. Besides, I just like him better. I have decided that Katnit needs to finish this session. So she should stay."

Peetal hops up and dashes out of the room before I can even process what Haymill said. He's been soaking his doll in bleach and probably wants to check on Cat pit's purple stains.

Haymill then asks me a whole bunch of questions like 'What color is Effel's hair?' and 'What color are Peetal's eyes?', but after fifty questions or so he stops me.

"Gah! Stop! Stop, stop, stop. I've asked you about fifty question and I still don't know anything about you!"

"But you're not asking me anything about me!" I say.

Haymill lets out a dramatic groan.

"Don't argue! Just answer the questions. Look, I want you to try answering these questions from a different angle. You know, funny, sexy, mysterious? So I want you to try answering these questions like you're a dude."

So I do. I keep a very low voice and add 'Yeah! Demolition derbies!' to the end of all my sentences.

"That was…just weird. Weird," Haymill says after awhile. "I hate demolition derbies. I prefer watching male cheerleaders, myself. Anyways, we're done with that. This is the last one. I want you to answer these questions like… me. I want you to answer these questions like the happy, cheerful person _I _am."

"Wait, do I get props?" I ask. "Cause I need grape juice and maybe some pom-poms."

"No!" Haymill snaps. "Just answer the questions!"

And I do, but he stops me almost immediately

"Ugh! You have all the charm of a dead squirrel," he says.

"I do?" I ask happily. A dead squirrel! Haymill sure knows how to give me good compliments.

"Well, yes. I mean, no. Just…whatever. I'm not responsible if you get stoned by tomatoes tonight." Haymill leaves the room. I put down his negativity as jealously. Haymill is just jealous. I shake my head in pity for poor Haymill.

No one charms like a dead squirrel. And you can take that to the bank.

I meet Chinna in his fire-wall room. The stylist have just left, having attacked me with their mascara wands and powdery powders. Chinna is lounging on a couch humming 'Firehouse.'

"Hey, Chinna," I say casually.

"Katnit!" he says excitedly. "Oh _boy_ you're here! You must see your new outfit!" He grins excitedly. "Ready?"

Chinna dresses me in a skintight red-orange suit. Then he spends the next five hours gluing fire-colored gems to me with a hot glue gun.

"OW!" I howl.

"Sorry, sorry! All in the name of fashion!" he cries excitedly. "I forgot to glue these on before you came—I was burning a book about this bear called 'Smokey.'I decided to ditch a dress for this suit, because then even shifting your pinky toe will make a huge difference in the way your fire-gems glitter. Here comes the hot glue gun again!"

"OW!" I scream again. To distract me, Chinna turns on some music for me.

_Just gonna stand there and watch me burn_

_But it's all right because I like the way it hurts._

Finally, my skin is covered in burns, and Chinna has run into his back room to get one last thing. I hear a creak on the floor and whip around to see Chinna creeping towards me with a lit match.

"Chinna!" I shriek.

"Sorry, sorry! Habit." He grins and puts the match out with his tongue. "Okay, here it is, the final touch!" Chinna holds out a pale yellow cape. "It's the icing on the cake!"

Chinna dresses me in the cape, then makes me hold my arms straight out to the sides while he glues little candles all along my arm.

"Now, you must keep your arms out straight, because when these candles are lit, they must stay lit, and the Capitol doesn't want you setting anything on fire." The glint in Chinna's eyes makes me think that he disagrees with the Capitol on that particular subject.

"All right then!" Chinna says, as he pulls a jumbo set of matches out of his back pocket. "Arms nice and straight? Not too tired? Good. If they do get tired, or if you lose feeling, do little arm circles!"

Chinna lights his match and begins to light the candles. He turns on 'If You Love Someone, Set Them on Fire.' It's a catchy song.

Finally, the candles all up both my arms are glowing.

"Try not to worry about the hot wax hitting you! The cape is only kinda thick, so it might burn just a smidge!"

Because my arms are on fire, Cinna kneels down and hugs me around my legs. "You'll do great, fire girl! Go get 'em!"

Everyone keeps a good distance from me as we head for the stage. I try to channel dead squirrel energy. _Charm like a dead squirrel. Charm like a dead squirrel, _I think to myself.

Peetal is dressed in an outfit similar to mine, but there are only two candles, balanced on top of the baby fat on his stomach. And he's wearing a skintight suit with gems, just like mine! I see he's rhinestoned '_The P Man' _across the back of his pants, just like Catpit. He shows me a miniature corn husk doll that he has in his pocket.

"For luck!" he tells me.

I sit, bored as a dead squirrel, through the first interviews. I'm sweating terribly, which only makes my hot glue gun burns feel worse. The wax from the candles is dripping too, all over the laps of the people I'm sitting next to.

Finally, it's my turn. Two Capitol workers come help me out of the chair so I don't have to use my arms. I walk carefully over to Caesar Flickerman. This year, his signature shade is puce. Everything about him is that very shade—his eyes, his hair, his nose hair, his ear hair. You get the picture.

"Well, Katnit!" he says excitedly, cringing out of the way from the flames. "What an interesting dress!"

"Oh yes," I tell him. "It's uh, very… warm."

"I see that!" Caesar says. "You look like a birthday cake!" The audience laughs, and I smile modestly. I've always been a funny person, even when I don't realize it. Sometimes, the kids at school laugh at me, and I don't even realize I'm being funny! Like that time I split my pants when I bent down to grab the chalk. Everyone thought I was hilarious, and I didn't even say anything!

Then I spot Chinna out in the crowd. He's standing up, making crazy motions with his hands and jumping up and down. I get the message.

_Dance! _Chinna is saying.

I stand up suddenly, knocking over my chair. As I'm rushing to center stage, I trip over something invisible and nearly fall on my face. But I manage to twist around at the last second and end up spinning around, still managing to keep my arms outstretched. I realize the crowd is applauding wildly. I name the dance move. It's the trip-twirl-yay move.

"Oh, do that again!" Caesar cries. So I run, trip, and spin around to keep myself up again. I do that again and again, until I finally get too close to Caesar and accidentally set his hair on fire.

"Ahhhhhhhhh!" Caesar screams, running around like crazy. In the audience, Chinna cackles and claps his hands. I hear him shouting, "Encore! Encore! Encore!"

A Capitol worker runs in with a fire extinguisher and sprays Caesar in the face. For a moment, everything is silent. Then the audience bursts into wild applause. I'm escorted off the stage while another person tries to calm Caesar, who's bawling hysterically. Chinna is still clapping and cheering.

Once I'm led backstage, I'm hosed down with the fire extinguisher as well.

Onstage, Caesar has composed himself and is welcoming Peetal Mellurk to the stage. I see that Peetal's excellent at keeping up a playful banter with Caesar. Like this:

"So, I hear your name's Petal?" Caesar asks.

"No, actually, it's Peeetal," he replies.

"Nuh-uh!"

"Yuh-huh!"

"Nuh-uh!

"Nuh-uh!"

"Yuh-hu—oops! You got me!"

Then they burst into laughter. After a few minutes of this, Caesar gets serious.

"So, Peetal, charming boy as you are, do you have a…shall we say… love interest back home?" Caesar tips a wink to the audience.

Peetal smiles shyly. "Well, yes. I do. Five of them, actually."

"My!" Caesar exclaims. "Do share!"

"Okay," Peetal says, thinking. "The first girl…puked all over me. That was disgusting. The second girl got braces that made her look like a—nevermind. You don't want to know. The third girl got her hair _butchered_. It was terrible. And then, I heard a rumor that the fourth girl got a nasty skin fungus. So I suppose you could say they're not really… interests anymore."

"Then what about the fifth girl?" Caesar asks.

"Oh… well, she hasn't done anything weird yet. So I guess she could still count," Peetal says thoughtfully.

"Great! Once you go home, all popular and rich, it will only be a matter of time before you can win her heart! Money and popularity are the keys to a happy life, you know."

"I don't have to wait until I get home, silly!" Peetal laughs.

"Why not?" Caesar asks.

"Cause she's here!" Peetal squeals excitedly.

I freeze. Who is it? Is it Effel? Porca? Another tribute?

Caesar gasps. "_Who_?"

Peetal beams. "It's Katnit!"

The audience gasps, and so do I. _Me_? For a moment, I think he possibly said 'Cat pit', until a spotlight swivels and focuses on me, standing just behind the curtains.

And what do I do? I faint.

It's officially the first day of the Games. I wake up without getting grape juice poured on me or the Avox girl all up in my grill. I lie in bed for a few minutes, taking it all in. I find I'm still in my gem costume, though somebody removed the cape. I wonder if this was because whoever brought me in here didn't feel like disturbing me, or if the hot glue and wax stuck the fabric to my skin.

Then I realize I'm not in my room at the Training Center anymore. I'm in a smaller bedroom, much smaller than the suite I was in before, and there is an outfit set out for me—a poodle skirt and a t-shirt with 'Sirko's Rafting' across it. I dress, peeling off the gem suit with only a lot of trouble and taking care with my headless mockingjay pin.

Chinna is sitting outside the door.

"Katnit!" he says when I walk out. "We thought you got a concussion when you fainted and hit your head on a fire extinguisher, and nobody could wake you up! So, we put you on the hovercraft anyways. That's where we are right now. But hey, the Games start in five minutes! Are you excited?"

I almost faint again, but Chinna tosses me in a wheelbarrow sitting next to him and wheels me through the hovercraft so I don't have to walk.

In the Launch Room, Chinna dumps me on a chair and starts making a tower of lit matches. I hope it doesn't collapse. The Launch Room is a small white room with a transparent tube running from the floor to ceiling, where I will rise into the arena. Like a beautiful worm poking its head through the ground, just before an evil bird comes and sucks it up.

A voice rings through the room. _One minute to show time. Repeat: one minute to show time._

"Whoo!" Chinna says. "This is so exciting! Hurry, get in the tube!" Chinna gives me a big hug, and, humming 'Fire and Rain' under his breath, he shuts me in the transparent tube. Then he presses his face to the glass so his nose looks all funny and pig-ish and makes me laugh.

We wave and wave at each other until my tube disappears into the ceiling.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" a voice booms. "Let the Hu—" This is interrupted by a lot of coughing, hacking, and gagging.

"Sorry, sorry… Let the 74th Hunter Games begin!"


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

"ALL RIGHT, ALL RIGHT!" a man shouts. I shake my head, disoriented, trying to get my bearings. I focus on a man standing at the Cornucopia. He is too far away to see clearly, but he's yelling through a megaphone. I have one of those at home that I use to get through big crowds and make really loud birdcalls.

"WE JUST NEED TO REITERATE THE RULES!" the guy hollers. "RULE NUMBER ONE: USE GOOD JUDGEMENT, AND ONLY MAIM AND INJURE WHEN ABSOULTEY NECESSARY."

What, did you actually think we killed each other? Gross! That would be so sadistic! No no no… the Hunter Games are a glorified scavenger hunt!

"RULE NUMBER TWO: YOU NEED TO FIND TEN THINGS TO COMPLETE YOUR HUNT, AS USUAL. BUT WE HAVE ALSO ADDED A SPECIAL CROWN OF WONDER THAT YOU WILL NEED TO FIND ALONG WITH YOUR TEN ITEMS. WITHOUT THE SPECIAL CROWN OF WONDER, YOU CAN'T WIN."

All of the tributes are standing in a wide circle around the horn, and we're all warming up. Peetal looks like he's doing those breathing exercises they tell pregnant women to do, a girl with a sock over her head is jumping up and down and letting her arms flap madly, a big fat boy is bent over to stretch out his toes, and I'm loosening up by pretending to be a rag doll. I fall over.

"ARE YOU PUMPED?" the guy screams. "LEMME HEAR YOU SAY HEYYY!"

"Heyy!" we echo.

"HOOOOO!"

"Hooo!"

"HEYYY!"

"Hooo!"

"ALL RIGHT, ALL RIGHT, ENOUGH," says the guy. "I'M LEAVING!"

He then steps away from the horn, and a hovercraft appears overhead. A human chain comes swinging out—the first person grabbing onto the ankles of the next, and they drop down and pick up the guy, hauling him back into the hovercraft. A tribute tries to jump onto the end of the human chain.

"Take me with youuuu! I want my mommy!"

"So do I, kid," says a man as he uses the poor tribute's head to kick off into the air

From somewhere high in the sky, we hear the legenday announcer, Clyde Churchpith, coughing.

"Let…" he hacks. "the annual…" Gags. "HunterGamesbegin!" he gets out.

Right away, all the tributes start sprinting for another tribute. The Hunter Games always begins with a game of chicken.

I single out on Peetal, because he's an easy target. Right away, I see the token he decided to bring to the arena. It's an enormous corn husk doll, so big he has to haul it around on his back, and it's making it harder for him to run. I think the doll is bigger than he is.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" Peeta screams at the last second, and dives under my legs to avoid getting hit. He gets to his feet and, hoisting his doll higher on his back, dashes into the forest.

"Wait, Peetal!" I shout, but then get plowed over by the fat kid who was stretching his toes earlier.

"Ahahhaha!" the fat kid screams. "I win! Die, fiend!" Then he holds out his hand to help me up.

With the game of chicken pretty much over, everyone's sorting through the supplies at the Cornucopia.

"Did you want this bread?"

"Oh, no, that's okay! You keep it!"

"Anybody want a sword?"

"Nah, I'm more of a spear guy myself."

"Here's a spear, you want this one?"

"Yes, thank you so much!"

I decide to take nothing, because I am a master at surviving on my own, and head off into the woods.

All along the entrance to the woods are little wooden tables with the scavenger hunt list. I take one and look over the list as I walk through the woods.

1. An orange traffic cone

2. A piece of chalk

3. A Slim Jim

4. A rhinestone

5. A match

6. Something belonging to another tribute

7. Something belonging to another tribute

8. Something belonging to another tribute

9. Something belonging to another tribute

10. Something belonging to another tribute

I wander along as I think about how I'm going to find all these items. I decide I may need to form an alliance, and try to come up with some possible options.

But I am sidetracked by one small detail. I am thirsty. My throat is dry. So very, very dry.

I need a Pepsi.

I keep going for as long as I can—twenty whole minutes—but eventually I have to stop and rest. I'm losing energy, and my throat feels like sandpaper. I collapse against a tree, trying to keep breathing.

_If_ _only Haymill could send me some Pepsi_, I think, then realize, _Hey, why not?_

I snap my fingers twice, like I would call a puppy, and say, "Pepsi,"

Nothing happens. I say it again, and again, and again. In my delirium, I even make a song about.

_Pepsi, oh fine Pepsi, how I long to taste your taste_

_The acids that will burn my teeth if I don't brush them after I drink you_

_The stickiness that sticks my sticky hands together when I spill you on accident_

_Pepsi_

_Pepsi_

_Oh fine Pepsi_

I receive a sharp pain on top of my head, and then, liquid sloshing down my face. I stick my tongue out to taste it.

Pepsi! Haymill sent me a Pepsi. Which landed on my head. Which broke open on my head. People had always told me I had a thick skull. I sigh happily and start to lick the Pepsi off the ground, wringing out my wet hair into my mouth.

It was delicious.

I sit there for a while longer. When my pants soak up the Pepsi I didn't lick off the ground, I take them off and wring it off into my mouth, too.

I decide to take a nap then. I lay perfectly still on my back, keeping my eyes open just a little bit.

I see a bird in the sky, flying around. It sees me, because it starts circling lower and lower around me. It reminds me of a vulture, coming down to eat the dead things on the forest floor.

"Ahhh!" I scream, bolting up. "I'm not dead!"

The bird in the sky screams too, and falls to the ground. That's when I see it's not a bird at all, but a very tiny person.

"I thought you were dead!" she gasps. "Sorry, sorry, sorry!"

I hold out my Pepsi can, sharp edge out. "Who are you?"

"Oh!" she says. "I'm Flue!"

"Are you a tribute? I don't remember you," I say.

"Yes, I am," Flue says. "You might not've seen me. I'm pretty small."

Duh.

"You look wet," Flue says.

"Pepsi exploded on me."

"Ah," Flue says, staring at me, obviously overcome with jealousy that her sponsors had not dropped Pepsi on her head. "All right, well, let's go!" She leaps into the air and flies into a tree.

"Go where?" I ask.

"To the Career camp! I want to mess with them! We'll run in, and when they get close, _fly _out! It's so much fun!"

"Oh, but… I don't know how to fly," I tell her. I run along next to her while she floats through the trees.

"Too bad! I'll go myself, then," she says. She tells me to go hide in the bushes on the outskirts of the forest.

The Careers have set up their camp right inside the Cornucopia. They've laid out blankets and pillows all over the golden floor. Flue and I scope out the scene while we listen to the joyful sounds of the Careers playing Spoons, Would You Rather, and finally, Truth or Dare.

"So what's the plan?" I asked in a hushed whisper as the fat boy comes out and moons the rest of his gang for his Dare.

"I'll show you instead of telling you," Flue says, and flies down from her tree, walking lightly across the ground for the Cornucopia.

The fat boy is yanking his pants back over his enormous bottom when he sees Flue. Flue smiles, bends down, and picks up something shiny and silver off the ground, placing it on her head.

The Special Crown of Wonder! Where did she get that from? The fat boy neglects his pants and starts waddling toward Flue with his pants around his ankles.

"Hey, little girl! Stop! I have candy!" he shouts.

The rest of the Careers run for Flue as well, wielding their pillows as weapons.

They carefully surround her, and then the fat boy counts to three and they all dive for her. At the last second, Flue jumps into the air and flaps her arm to stay airborne as the Careers smash into each other in a jumble of pillow feathers, limbs, and fat boy's bare butt. Flue soars through the sky, laughing madly. I run towards her as she comes to earth.

"You got the Crown!" I croon.

"Nah." Flue shows me a piece of tinfoil fashioned into a crown. "I made this myself."

Together, Flue and I wander away from the chaos at the Cornucopia.

I wish I had my Magic 8 ball, so it could confirm that Flue would be a great member of our alliance. But, it's back in District 12, and Gill borrowed it anyway to ask the ball if he should try to tame a lynx. In case you're wondering, it said no. You can see why that Magic 8 ball comes in useful.

"Flue," I say. "How would you like to be allies?"

Flue brushes a feather from her arm, and says, "Caw!"

"Uh, what?"

"Sorry. I slip into Bird sometimes. I would love to be allies!"

So we shake hands, and they get stuck together because of all the Pepsi that spilled on my hand.

Flue wants to sleep in the trees, but I'm scared to go up as high as she wants me to climb. At home, Gill usually spots me while I tried to get the higher apples off the tree. He holds a huge mattress under me just in case I fall. Flue just picks me up, flies to the top of the tree and drops me on a branch. She uses a rope to tie me to the tree.

"Good night, Katnit," Flue says, settling down on her branch.

"Good ni—hey, would you mind loosening this rope a bit? I can't feel my legs."

"Oh, yeah, sure."

"Thanks. Night, Flue."

"Night, Katnit."

...

**A/N **Sorry that this is a bit of a short chapter. I'll make up for it with epically long chapters later on.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N **Mockingjay is out TOMORROW! xD I am sooo excited! I really wanted to get this chapter out before I spend the next day reading and the next couple of days letting it all sink in. I kinda slouched on checking for mistakes. Sorry. I... uh.. skimmed it. ;)

I've been pretty bad about replying to reviews, but thanks so much to those who do anyways. I'll be better about it, I promise. Soo.. chapter six! Here we go...

Chapter Six

Flue and I spend the morning resting up. We've planned to go hunting for items in the afternoon. While I sit in the tree (still tied up) and Flue flutters around my head, we play the Story Game. In the Story Game, one person starts the story with a sentence, and then the second person adds another sentence, and the first person adds another sentence, and it goes on like that.

"Once there was a girl named Katnit," Flue begins.

"She was exceptionally beautiful," I add.

"And she was loved dearly by Petal Mellurk!"

"It's Peeeetal."

"Katnit was very defensive of her Petal."

"Wait! Stop it! It's my turn!" I cry.

"One day Katnit and Petal climbs a tree," Flue says as I struggle against my ropes.

"Stop! It's _my _turn!"

"_Petal and Katnit sitting in a tree—_" Flue chants.

"Ah! Stop!"

"_K-I-S-S-I-N-G!_"

"Gross!"

"_First comes love, then comes marriage—_"

I howl.

"_Then comes a baby in a baby carriage!_"

"Disgusting!" I moan.

"_That's not all, that's not all, I see the baby drinking alcohol!_" Flue finishes and bursts into laughter. "The end."

"That's inappropriate," I mumble. "Untie me."

When Flue doesn't come and untie me, I try to wriggle out myself. I succeed, but then I fall out of the tree.

"Ahhh!" I scream. "Ow! I think I broke something!"

Flue lands. "Oh my god! Your leg? Your arm?"

"Nah," I say. "Just my mockingjay pin. The second wing broke off too!"

It is then that we hear an odd scraping sound. Flue and I creep carefully towards the sound of the noise.

In a small clearing, a tribute is being dragged across the ground by his own leg. His leg stretches out, locks in the dirt, and then bends at the knee to drag him forward. His pant leg has gotten yanked up, and we can see that his leg is not made of flesh, but metal.

Flue squeals and dodges behind me. The tribute is shouting at his leg, trying to make it stop, but it continues to drag him through the woods. He twists and spots me in the trees.

"Help me! My leg has gone crazy! It—" The boy gets his head smashed into a tree trunk.

I feel a tap on my back to see Flue wielding a frying pan. Where did she get that? Whatever.

"Go get him, Flue!" I whisper, and Flue leaps into the air. Immediately, she falls because the frying pan is heavy, but she then she takes a running leap and is able to stay in the air. She flutters over to where the kid has grabbed on to a tree. His metal leg has twisted around and is banging him in the head to try and force him to let go of the tree trunk..

"Ow! It's gone nuts! Help m—"

And the Flue drops the frying pan on his head and he goes limp. His leg is still working and starts to drag the boy across the ground again, until Flue drops the frying pan on it too. Then it just lays there twitching. The leg, that is. The boy is just lifeless.

I run across the clearing to Flue.

"Oh my gosh!" I say. "He's a cyborg!" I look at his twitchy metal leg.

Flue is poking the lifeless cyborg with a stick. "What do we do with him?" she asks.

"I don't know," I muse. "Oh wait! This is on our list! We need something from another tribute."

Flue drops to the ground by the cyborg, screaming "Dibs on the head!"

"Wait!" I say. "Stop that! We can't _behead _him, that's barbaric. No, let's just chop off two of his toes."

Flue scowls. "Fine, then! I call his big toe."

Flue uses her teeth—which are unnaturally sharp for a human being—to slice off two of the cyborg's toes. Not his real toes of course, his mechanical toes. Flue gets shocked as her teeth gnaw through the wires, and I have to resuscitate her, but she's a fighter. She chews and chews on those two toes until she can finally place a toe dripping with saliva in my head.

"Excellent!" I say, stuffing the toe in my pocket. I give Flue a high-five, but that doesn't seem good enough. We make up a five minute long routine to use every time we find another object on our list. We sit down next to the cyborg, hitting him on the head again every time he stirs so his mechanical leg won't wake up and kick us.

"What's that dying pig noise?" Flue asks me. I hear it. Somebody is moaning and crashing through the brush like…well, like a dying pig.

"Help me get out of here!" I hiss, and Flue grabs my shirt and flies up into a tree, dropping me on a branch. We wait as the wailing draws nearer.

A girl emerges from the clearing, stumbling around.

"Ahhhh!" she's crying. "It's killing me… killing me!"

"What happened to her?" I whisper to Flue.

"Uh, what?" Flue says, looking around. "Have you seen my frying pan?"

Then the girl sees the cyborg knocked out on the ground.

"OMG!" she squeals, and dives for him. She pulls a miniature screwdriver out of her pocket and starts to unscrew a panel on the cyborg's leg. "OMG, OMG, OMG," she mutters to herself. Finally, the panel falls away and the girl unfolds a screen from the tiny space inside the panel.

"Internet?" she mutters, tapping away at the small keyboard. "Yes! Bingo!"

From my position, almost directly above her, in the trees, I see her open an internet page and log into her Facebook. She's apparently one of those annoying people who talk to themselves, so we hear everything she's typing.

"OMG," she types-slash-says. "I M dying here! U wud not believe it! No internet X-ess! It's N sane! OMG G2G ciber boi is movin." Then she clocks the cyborg over the head and he falls back to the ground, limp, again.

Flue smacks my shoulder to get my attention, but I've always had terrible balance and Flue hits hard, and I fall out of the tree. Right on top of the tribute hacking the internet access in the cyborg's leg.

"Ahhh!" she screams as my weight crushes down on her. I actually don't weigh that much—it's my super-long hair that goes past my knees that really tips the scale.

Immediately, the girl starts landing punches. "OMG! Not kewl! U broke the cpu monitor! U G2G!"

Flue dive bombs us and starts pecking away at the girl with her sharp teeth.

"Gross!" Flue spits. "She tastes disgusting!"

I reach up and try to bat away the girl's hand, but end up punching her full in the nose. I pull my hand away as the girl screams and falls backwards.

"OMG! U broke my nose! U will hav 2 pay!" she shrieks. I look at my hand and see that's it's covered in nose hair. Ick.

Flue flies over to her frying pan—I still don't know where she got it—and holds it up to the tribute. "You see this frying pan?" Flue says. "I will bean you with it if you move. So don't move."

I come to stand behind Flue and nod my head like a gangster on TV. "YEAH she will! Uh!"

"Who are you?" Flue demands.

"I'm Cilantro," she says defiantly. Flue and I bust into hysterical laughter.

"Like the _spice_?"

"Uh, yeah, more cilantro on my brussel sprouts, please!"

"I prefer pepper, thanks."

I'm laughing so hard I've collapsed against Flue. Suddenly, she jerks away and I fall to the ground, on top of Cilantro.

"Flue!" I cry, and look up. She's gone.

"Katnit!" she cries, just beyond the bushes. I try to leap up, but Cilantro grabs me and holds me back.

"Not so fast," she snarls. "CATTLE!"

I hear something that sounds like a huge cow stomping through the woods. "Cilantro!"

The fat boy from the Cornucopia stumbles into the clearing. I see why he's named Cattle. He's not just the size of one cow. He's the size of a whole bunch of cows. Cattle.

Cattle sees me and lets out a moo of delight. "Moooxcellent! We got her! Here, just—"

Cilantro pushes me off her to stand up, and I see my chance and take a run for it. To make it seem more theatrical, I point my finger gun behind me and make gun noises, like they do in those cop shows. I almost hit a tree… numerous time, but I know what I'm running for. If I can just reach it…

There. The Cornucopia. I sprint right for the huge golden horn, hearing Cattle and Cilantro smash through the brush behind me. They're gaining on me, but I reach the Cornucopia just as they reach me.

"SAFE!" I shout. Cilantro and Cattle stop, confused.

"What?"

"Duh! Haven't you ever played this game before? In tag, there's always a safety. The Cornucopia is safety! So I'm on safe."

Cattle punches his fist into his other hand and sits down right at my feet.

"Hey! No puppy-guarding!" I say. Cattle stands up and puts his face right next to mine.

"What was that?"

"Uh, I mean… puppy-guarding is totally okay. Make yourselves comfortable," I say kindly.

So they do. Cilantro goes to get the rest of the Careers, and they all sit around me, chatting idly. As it gets dark, Cattle announces that it's bedtime, so they all go through their nighttime routines. Cilantro passes out whitening strips, which makes them all talk funny for about twenty minutes. Cattle reminds the Careers that it's important to brush your hair before bed. 100 strokes. Another Careers gets a boom box and starts playing soft lullabies. Finally, they all change into those pajamas with the footies—and they're even decorated with clouds and stars and suns.

"Good night, Ugly," Cattle says to me as he lays down at my feet. He chuckles at his joke.

All around me, the Careers wish Ugly a good night. Who's Ugly?

"Good night, Ugly," I say, just so I'm not left out.

"_You're _Ugly, Ugly," one of them says, and they start to giggle.

I begin to realize how desperate my situation is. I'm stuck. I'm on safe, but I'm stuck.

One of the Careers—I'm guessing Cattle—passes gas and I nearly gag. The rest of the Careers giggle more.

It's going to be a long night.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

In the morning, the Careers wake up to their alarm clock. It's one of those alarms that start playing a song for you to wake up to, and it immediately kicks off with 'Beautiful Day' by U2, followed by 'Sunday Bloody Sunday.'

Cattle wakes up first and starts shaking the others.

"Good morning, sunshine!" he says. "Wakey-wakey!" The Careers all wake up, start pulling the curlers out of their hair and highlighting their faces with blush to look good on camera. After about five minutes of primping, they remember me.

"Who's that?" one asks.

"That's the girl we captured!" Cattle says, looking at me hungrily. "Don't let her escape!"

This seemed a bit silly, because they all had tasers under their pillows. I wasn't escaping.

As I wait for the Careers to finish making themselves camera-ready, my eyes catch movement at the edge of the tree line. A small figure emerges. She's wearing a black sock over her face with eye, nose, and mouth holes, and I can see frizzy red hair underneath it. I decide to nickname her Soxface.

Carefully, she creeps up on the Careers, doing a series of backflips and dive rolls that make me wish I never gave up gymnastics when I was seven.

Above the trees, Flue soars into the sky and starts to fly, letting the words painted on a long sheet flow out behind her. I read it.

AVERT YOUR EYES KATNIT!

Just as Soxface closes in on the Careers, I close my eyes and duck my head. Around me, the Careers start to scream.

"Oh my God!"

"Run! That's disgusting!"

"RUN YOU IDIOTS!"

I hear them scrambling, pulling their sleeping bags and makeup kits together, and running for the forest.

"You can open your eyes now, Katnit," someone says, and I look up to see Soxface securing her sock over her face again. What must she have under that sock? I don't want to know. I gulp.

"You saved me!" I say breathlessly, wondering if she came to kill me and then bury my body.

"Duh!" she replies. "I'm in your alliance now. You, me, Flue, and that Petal kid."

"Peetal," I correct absentmindedly as she unties my ankles. "Wait, you found Peetal? Where?"

"Cowering in some hole, I guess," Soxface says airily. "He doesn't like the game Chicken, apparently. He didn't want to come out."

Soxface stands up and brushes off her hands. "Well, come on! We gotta go. Flue is waiting with Peeta in our super-secret meeting place. We have important business to discuss, now that our whole alliance is together."

I follow Soxface into the woods. Every once in a while, she'll land a couple of backflips or vault over a low branch and nearly kick my teeth out. She stops in a clearing and starts making some weird moaning noises.

"What is that?" I ask.

"Whale calls. I learned it from some movie about a fish," Soxface tells me.

"But, we're not in the ocean," I say.

"Exactly." Soxface nods. "They'll be expecting code bird calls. But not whale calls!"

We hear Peetal and Flue before we see them. "Ahhh! Ahhh! Flue! I'm afraid of heights!" Peeta screams. A few minutes laters Flue soars into the clearing, clutching Peeta by the collar. Peetal collapses to the ground, shuddering and clutching his enormous corn husk doll closer.

"Um, hi Peeta," I try, but he's not listening. Instead, I turn to the other members of my new alliance.

"Come on, Katnit," Soxface says. "Into the huddle, there we go."

"All right," Flue begins. "First order of business: we need a _move_."

"A move?" I ask.

"Shh!" Flue hisses. "Whisper! And yes, a move. Like when superheroes leap off a building, land on a car, whip their cape around and say 'Wa-bam! Heeere's Farley! It's their special move."

"I've never heard of Farley."

"I made it up, Katnit! Why are you so difficult?"

"Sorry, sorry," I say. "Okay, let's make up a move."

In the end, here's what we come up with. We decided to call ourselves the Nit Face Flew, because it's a combination of all of our names. We decide that Peetal's name can be left out, because then we'd be the Face Pee Nit Flew, and that just sounded gross. Besides, he was still crying and we didn't think he'd mind.

So first I leap into my position, elbows bent with my hands in fists, ready to punch with one leg up into the air. I shout. "NIT!"

Then Soxface leaps in front of me, in a karate move where one hand is in a fist, and her other arm is straight out like she really did just punch somebody. She screams, "FACE!"

Then Flue leaps forward, staying level with me so she's a little bit behind Soxface, and she's got her knees and elbows both bent like she's about to spring on top of you. She hollers, "FLEW!"

We practice, again and again.

"NIT!"

"FACE!"

"FLEW!"

"NIT!"

"FACE!"

"FLEW!"

This is when Peetal gets up from the ground, takes his thumb out of his mouth, and asks to be a part of our move, too. We decide that after we finish our part, he can leap up behind us and shout what his catchphrase: "FLOWER POWER!"

"NIT!"

"FACE!"

"FLEW!"

"FLOWER POWER!"

Peetal gets very into his role, screaming it with all the anger he can muster (his voices goes incredibly high when he screams), and flinging his monster corn husk doll high into the air. He jumps nearly four feet off the ground.

Fueled on by our amazing and intimidating new move, we decide to target the Careers for more items for our list. We each trade items from our bodies as items from other tributes—I give strands of my hair to the rest, Soxface gives stray strings from her sock, Peetal hands out toenail clippings, and Flue gives us some mosquito bite scabs. I look in my pocket and see that, with all my items from my alliance members, the cyborg's toe, and Cilantro's nose hairs from when I punched her, I have all my tribute items complete.

"Oooh!" Peetal says, sticking his hand into my pocket, and grabbing my handful of nose hairs. "Did you know you can wish on these?"

"No, Peetal," I say calmly. "Those are eyelas—no!"

Peetal has set the nose hairs on his palm, closed his eyes to make a wish, and blown them into the wind.

"Peetal!" I scream. "What did you do? That was my item from a tribute!"

Peetal looks confused. "Oh, okay," he says.

"Ugh! Now I need to find another item. Gosh, Peetal."

"I—I'm…sorry, Katnit," Peetal whimpers. "I will find another item for you, okay?"

I roll my eyes. "Fine, Peetal."

Peetal announces that he needs to go to the bathroom then, leaves me to babysit his doll, and marches into the woods. A few moments later, he screams and comes crawling back into the clearing.

"The bunny!" he screamed. "I went to pet it, and it BIT me!" He holds up his arm to show me two little puncture marks. "Kiss my boo-boo, Katnit?"

Soxface squeals. "Everybody! In the trees! They're tracker bunnies!"

Flue, Soxface, and I run for the trees, and after I climb into the branches I reach down and hoist Peetal up, who's still sobbing over his tiny rabbit bite. Not a second after we all make it safely off the ground and into the trees, the pack of tracker bunnies come hopping into the clearing, snarling viciously.

Flue soars out of her tree. "Everyone, listen!" she shouts. "It's perfect. We'll draw them to the Careers! CAW!"

Flue drops closer to the ground, flying slowly to make sure the bunnies follow her. Soxface, Peetal, and I leap through the trees. Peetal hits his head a lot and we have to help him out, but we keep up with Flue. I direct everyone to the area where the Careers disappeared into the woods.

When we find the Careers, they're gorging themselves on chocolate cake and are having a hard time moving after all that food. So when the bunnies start to attack, it's all over.

Cattle staggers off the ground, hollering and slicing his plastic sword through the air. "Kill them! Kill them!" he screams. Flue lands on a branch beside me and all four of us giggle madly.

It's complete chaos—the ones that have been injected with the most bunny venom have gone woozy and are simply stumbling around in a daze as more bunnies leap onto them.

Peetal's giggling so hard he nearly falls out of the tree, and that's when Cattle sees us, hidden in the branches. He lets out a loud bellow and chucks his plastic sword at Peetal. Peetal ducks and the sword slices his corn husk doll's arm right off and Peetal gives a howl of anger.

"Nooooo!" Peetal wails.

I decide that with all of the Careers except Cattle woozy and dizzy and falling over, now would be a good time to search their bags for items, if Flue and Soxface could help me out.

"Distract him!" I say to Flue, and try to jump down from the tree. But Peetal grabs the back of my shirt.

"No, Katnit!" he shrieks. "I will protect you! I will protect you!"

"Peetal, let go!" I holler, and Flue beats him on the back of the head to make him let go. He doesn't budge.

"I will prot—"

Cattle, seizing advantage of our distraction, picks up a bunny and chucks it at Peetal's face. The bunny latches on and Peetal falls backward off the branch. I start to fall but manage to pull myself back into the tree. Cattle raises another bunny into the air as Peetal thrashes on the ground.

"Katnit!" he says. "I feel woozy. It's all shiny." He stands up, the bunny hanging from his hair, and wanders off, away from us.

"Peetal!" I scream. "Come back!"

Cattle chucks another rabbit at Peeta, and it hits him in the butt and latches on as well. But Peeta doesn't seem to notice.

"I will protect youuu, Katnit," he moans as he stumbles into the trees.

"Peetal!" I yell, but he's gone. Cattle chuckles and turns on the three of us, but that's when the rest of the bunnies start to bite him. For a boy bigger than five cows, it takes a lot of the fluffy white buggers to bring him down, but his eyes start to unfocus as the bunny venom makes him hallucinate.

"Mother... do you have more zucchini bread?," he chokes, staring at something only he can see. Then he turns and stumbles into the forest, with the rest of the bunnies hopping after him.

I feel dizzy. Because _if _I had jumped down, and _if_ Cattle or the bunnies had gotten to me, and_ if_ they had made me woozy, I could've died. So, kind of, sort of, Peetal Mellurk just saved my life.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Flue and I wake up to the sound of Soxface playing her trumpet as loud as she can.

"Up and at 'em, girlies!" Soxface shouts, carefully blowing the excess spit out of her trumpet and onto the ground. "Pffft." Then she puts her trumpet away in its velvet-lined case and hides in back in the bushes. "Time to move!"

Soxface snaps her finger, taps her feet, and checks her imaginary watch all while clicking her tongue impatiently waiting for Flue and I to get ready. It takes a while, because Flue has naturally curly hair that gets major frizz and needs to spend fifteen minutes straightening it all out. And I need to curl my eyelashes and apply my mascara.

"We're on _camera_," Flue tells Soxface, running the flat iron through her hair. "We need to be _camera ready_. I heard that on some show."

Finally, everyone's ready. The Nit Face Flew alliance, minus Peeta, starts to stomp through the trees, so loud that we send flocks of bird into the sky.

"We need a plan on action!" Soxface tells us importantly. "I heard _that _on some show. We need to split up to find items. Somebody can hunt solo, and the other two can go together. It's safest that way."

"I call Katniss!" Flue shrieks, clutching my arm. Well, this is a new one. I've had plenty of guys fight over me before, of course, but never girls. I'm telling you— it's craziness. I shake my head and prepare to intervene when—

"Eh, fine," Soxface says. "I work better alone, when it comes to this kind of thing anyways."

_She's covering up her disappointment_, I realize. "Don't worry," I tell Soxface. "You can hunt for items with me next time."

Soxface heads off to the right, into a new section of the forest, ignoring me. "Find as many items as you can!" she calls. "We'll meet by some trees later, okay?"

The minute she's out of sight, Flue and I slow from the brisk walk Soxface had been leading us at to a slow amble. We sigh.

"This is boring," Flue complains.

I yawn in response.

"Katnit," Flue says after awhile. "Tell me a story."

"A story?"

"Yeah. I like stories."

"Oh," I say, and then pause. "Well, um… I don't know many stories."

"What about a true story?" Flue asks. "You must have some true stories to tell!"

I think for a while.

"Okay," I say. "I've got a story about my little sister Prill, and the goat that my friend Gill and I got her for her birthday."

"Yes! I love cute animals stories," Flue exclaims, clapping. "Caw!"

"All right then," I say. "So, Gill and I were hunting apples, like we always do. And Gill—he's a _major _splurger—had bought himself a new phone a couple months before. He insisted that it was dying, because there wasn't good service out in the woods. We used his GPS system to track down apple trees, actually, but it hadn't been working. So, we laid a whole bunch of mattresses down below the tallest tree in the woods, so Gill could climb up to the top and get reception for his phone. You should've heard him whine—"_God, my phone sucks. I want a Droid!_" He's so picky, you know? Anyways, we were really high up—like, a whole ten feet—when Gill saw _it _in the valley."

"It?" Flue says in a hushed voice. "What's _it_?"

I smile, drawing out the suspense. "The _goat_." Flue gasps.

"It was a lovely, juicy goat in the valley, just randomly wandering around. So we quietly fell out of the tree and onto the mattresses. Well, I did—Gill missed and fell in a bush. Don't worry, he only ruptured his spleen."

Flue murmurs in sympathy.

"Gill and I slid down the slope to the valley on our butts, being very quiet and sneaky. When we got to the bottom, near the goat, we hid in a bush and tried to decide what to do. Gill had the great idea that if we shot it and injured it but didn't kill it, we could take it home for Prill to heal, because she likes to heal things. She wants to be a veterinarian. Plus, if we shot it we could get it home easier. So, I Gill and I shot it and dragged it back to my house for Prill."

"Oh, what a perfect present! I've always wanted an injured goat! What was its name?"

"Just wait, just wait! We got it back home, and Prill was so happy to see it! She tied a ribbon around it's neck, but when it tried to bite her she turned used it as a muzzle instead. She decided to name it Man. Prill and my mother spent the next day trying to heal Man."

"Oh, oh, oh! And you were able to save it?"

"No. It died," I tell her. Flue gasps, and tears start to flow down her cheeks.

"No no no! Don't cry, 'cause it ends happy. Prill was really sad, until she found a living worm in the goat's mouth. She decided that the worm could be her present instead of the dead goat. So, she kept the little worm and named it Cookie. And then we ate the goat. The end."

Flue cheers.

"Oh, Katnit," she sighs. "That's just such an adorable story."

I beam proudly. "Thanks. I like it, too."

"So wait, tell me more about this Gill. He sounds like a…" she giggles. "Hunk!"

I frown. "Oh, well, I guess I'd never thought about it. Even though I hunt every day with him. And shared all my secrets with him. Kinda weird, isn't it?"

Flue and I take five minute breaks every two minutes. Each time we take a rest, we always do a quick check for items by just scanning the ground and trees, just using our eyes. We don't find anything.

For the next few hours, we roam around the woods looking for items. Then we step out of the woods onto a flat plain that stretches off into the distance.

"Whoa!" Flue says. "We must be on the opposite end of the forest!"

Flue is so energized by the open plain that she starts to run into a takeoff. But just as she digs in with her right foot to launch herself into the sky, she tumbles to the ground. Her foot had landed right in a pit of quicksand, followed by the rest of her body.

"Flue!" I scream, as she flips around and tries to drag herself out of the quicksand.

"Katnit!" she shrieks, flailing.

"Just wait!" I cry, and rush to the woods for a vine or something. When I don't find anything, I rip the shoelace off my shoe and dangle it over the pit of quicksand.

"Grab it!" I cry.

"Katnit! I can't!" she groans. "My hands have gone under!" She lunges forward and catches it with her mouth, but she must have sharp teeth because she snaps the shoelace in half with them. I'm left holding a shoelace with a severely shredded end.

"God, Flue. You totally just destroyed my—"

"KATNIT!" she screams as she sinks up to her neck.

"Right! Sorry!" I say, scrambling right to the edge of the pit. "Don't worry! I'll save you!"

"How?" she screams.

"Uh… not sure," I admit, looking around for ideas.

"Katnit," Flue says desperately. "Sing me a song."

"A song? I don't know any," I say, but already I'm remembering my rendition of Alejandro at my school talent show that made everyone go _wild_. I'm sure, even on her death bed of quicksand, Flue will love it.

"Anything," Rue whispers, and she sinks up to her chin.

And that's when I remember a song that my father used to sing to me occasionally, when I'd fall into a pit of quicksand in the woods back at home and he'd have to pull me out.

So I begin, in my sexy, cracked voice. And as I begin, rain droplets start to fall from the sky, splashing down my face and making my mascara run.

_Deep in the quicksand pit, under the cumulominibus clouds_

_A bed of sand, the crunchy hard grains_

_Keep up your head, don't close your eyes_

_Cause if they close, you'll sink and you won't see the sun rise_

_It's not safe, but it's sure warm_

_Here even the daisies hide from this harm_

_Here your dreams must suck, let's hope they don't come true_

_Here is the place that Flue flew…away_

When I sing 'away,' my voice drops an octave lower, because I sing excellently in bass as well as soprano.

_Deep in the quicksand, hidden far away_

_The suffocation sand, the death beam ray_

_The end is coming, you better start and pray_

_And when again it's morning, you won't see the day_

_It's not safe, but it's sure warm_

_Here even the daisies hide from this harm_

_Here your dreams must suck, let's hope they don't come true_

_Here is the place that Flue flew…away_

On the last few lines, when only Flue's mouth is visible, she croaks along with me.

Behind me, Soxface emerges from the trees with her trumpet and starts playing 'Taps.' Across the plain, a figure with another trumpet echoes her. I have no clue who it is, but it doesn't matter. I weave a combination of random notes into the music, but I stop when Soxface dashes over and smacks me on the head.

"Stop it! That's awful!" she hisses, and then continues with 'Taps.'

When she's finished, we spent a moment in silence for Flue. Finally, I turn to Soxface.

"So, did you find any items?" I ask.

"Uhh… yeah," Soxface says, producing an orange traffick cone and a half-eaten Slim Jim from her backpack.

"Where did you find those?" I ask curiously.

"Dead men tell no lies," she replies mysteriously.

"You're not dead!"

"A flibber?"

"What?"

"What?"

"What were we talking about?"

"Oh, gee, I don't know. I can't remember for the life of me. Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies. Now come on, we have to go. This place is dangerous," Soxface says, starting for the trees again.

"Wait!" I say. "I would just like to say a couple words, in honor of Flue." Soxface sighs impatiently, but I walk over to the quicksand pit and kneel.

"Flue," I say reverently. "Fly away, little birdie. Caw, caw."

Soxface snorts. "Caw, caw? Come on. Let's go."

After one last look at the quicksand pit, I follow Soxface back into the woods. That night, as I lay hidden in a bush, I find I can't fall asleep. I just can't get that song I sang to Flue out of my head. It's just so… catchy.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

In my dream, I was walking. Right down the center of the street. If a Capitol car came, it would hit me and I'd be noodles. I was breaking the law, technically. I was a _rebel_.

As I walked down the street—well, actually, it was more of a _strut_—I heard my name being called out. But strangely enough, there was nobody around. Just me, walking down street.

"Katnit! Katnit!" the voice screamed. I turned around to see a huge car barreling down the street right at me.

Then I open my eyes and bolt upright.

"Katnit! Katnit!" Peetal screams, running right at me with his massive corn husk doll on his shoulders. Unable to stop in time, Peetal smashes right into me and knocks me back to the ground.

"Peetal!" I shriek, as he rolls off me and hops to his feet, beaming. It's morning—the sun is cracking over the trees, turning everything a warm yellow glow the color of dehydrated pee.

Peetal throws his arms around me and I'm suffocated by the smell of sweaty boy and sticky corn husk.

"Katnit!" he squeals again, excitedly. "I found you!"

"I found you too!" I holler back, and we hold hands and jump up and down. On the ground, Soxface stirs and wakes up.

"Soxface! Look who it is!" I say.

"Oh, God," she mutters. "It's _him_."

"I know!" I say. "This is great!"

I finally get a good look at Peetal when he backs away, still grinning like mad. He's got a small zipper, right down his forehead, nose, around his mouth, and down his neck. It disappears into his shirt. But, I decide not to ask about it because it seems personal.

"This is amazing!" Peetal squeals, and hugs me again.

For the rest of the day, Soxface hunts for items while Peetal and I wander after her, not really helping much. We play Ring Around the Rosy.

"_Ring around the rosy, a pocket full of posy_," we sing.

"Shut up! Do you want the Careers to find us?" Soxface snaps.

We ignore her. "_Ashes, ashes_," we chorus.

"YOU ALL FALL DOWN!" Soxface screams, and body slams us. "Now shut up!"

Peetal frowns at her, standing up and brushing off his corn husk's doll enormous butt. "That was rude," he says.

"Your FACE is rude!" Soxface huffs, and she turns around and stalks off into the woods.

We find no items the entire day. At night, we lay in a clearing in the trees to fall asleep. But it's too bright because all the stars are out, and so Peeta and I give up on trying to sleep and end up trying to find new constellations. This greatly annoys Soxface.

"Katnit!" Peetal squeals. "I see a cute little squirrel!"

"I see an arrow!" I tell him.

Soxface rolls over. "I see an arrow through a squirrel's head," she says nastily, and then throws a pinecone at Peetal, who promptly bursts into tears.

Peetal cuddles up to me with his head in my armpit. Awkwardly, I wrap my arm around him.

"Katnit," he whispers. "Why is she so mean?"

"Because," I answer, inventing wildly. "She's jealous. She wishes she had a corn husk doll as cool as yours.

"Ah," Peetal answers, and sits up. "Soxface? Do you want to sleep with my doll?"

Soxface lets out a snore that may or may not be fake.

"Here," Peetal whispers. "I'll just set it down beside her." Then he chucks the doll at her sleeping form. "There."

Peetal lays back down and snuggles back into my armpit. "Good night, Katnit,"

"Good night, Peetal," I reply.

After he's fallen asleep, Soxface sits up abruptly and rips one of the legs off the doll, then chucks both the doll and the disembodied part up into a tree.

A few hours later, I wake up, probably due to the sudden absence of a head in my armpit. It's like when I've been holding that dead squirrel on my lap like a little baby, and I get used to it's warmth. Then, when Gill takes it for his turn to cradle it, my lap suddenly feels cold. I shiver, and press my arm into my side tighter.

Then I realize that my armpit's cold because Peetal's not there. I sit up and look around to see him digging feverishly through Soxface's bag.

"Peetal!" I say, and he falls backwards, taking the pack with him.

"Ahh!" he screams, but it's not in Peetal's normal high-pitched voice. It's deeper. It's faintly familiar.

"Freak!" he screams. "Y R U awake?"

I stand up quickly, backing away. "Peetal, what's wrong?" For Peetal has dropped the pack and started stalking towards me, a most un-Peetal like expression on his face. The zipper running down his face really stands out in the light of the stars.

"Soxface!" I squeal as Peetal dives for me.

Soxface stirs, wakes up, and without missing a breath grabs Peetal's ankle. Peetal trips and falls to the ground, moaning.

"Peetal!" I scream. "What's wrong with you?"

He doesn't answer and keeps thrashing around on the ground. Soxface holds tight to his ankle. Slowly, carefully, I inch forward and touch the zipper, starting at the top of his forehead. I pull. Down his forehead, down his nose, around his mouth. And then I see it.

Peetal's face falls away to reveal a snarling Cilantro. Soxface and I freeze in shock, and she leaps up, kicking her way out of her Peetal costume. On the ground, I see it's only a thin plastic costume, but it looks exactly like Peetal.

"Oh my God!" I say. "Cilantro!"

Cilantro cackles. "ROTFLMFSBO!"

Soxface and I trade glances. "What?"

"!" she says without a breath. "Boy, U R stupid!"

I try spit on the ground between us, but I've never learned how to spit very well so it ends up dribbling down my chin. "Well—" I begin.

"Save it, drooly," Cilantro says carelessly. "Don't worry! I'm just going to incapacitate you! But really, don't worry!" She brandishes her knife. "It won't hurt!"

I'm about to run, but I have very slow reflexes and I've only started to turn around when Cilantro is at my side, pulling me into a headlock.

"No, no!" I scream, as Cilantro draws her knife. Soxface dives for me, but Cilantro's foot comes out of nowhere and Soxface runs right into it, falling over.

"! ! AHHHHHHH! AHHH! Ah! Ah!"

I know that sound. High-pitched, shrill and shrieking.

The battle cry of Peetal Mellurk.

Peetal trips into the clearing, his corn husk doll raised high over his head. "AHHHHH!" And then he chucks the massive doll at Cilantro's head.

The sheer force of all the corn husk knocks Cilantro to the ground. Cilantro screams, "I WILL GET U!"

Peetal and I leap out of the way with the grace of ballerinas, but Cilantro stretches out an arm and latches onto Soxface's ankle.

"_Ohmygod!_" Soxface shrieks. "It's got me! Peet—Cilantro's got me! Katnit! Petal! Heeeelp!"

I clench Peetal's arm. "Do something!" So Peetal produces a 2 by 4 out of thin air and brings it down on Cilantro's head.

Soxface and Cilantro are both squealing now, and neither one of them are letting go. But Peetal's consistent whacking with his 2 by 4 is making Cilantro lose her concentration. Her fingers slip, and Soxface jerks her ankle free.

Faster than lightning, Soxface is on her feet and powering into the forest. Cilantro leaps up and chases after her, followed by Peetal, dragging his two by four and his doll, followed by me.

Peetal and I plow through bushes and run into trees. We trip on our faces and get distracted by spooky rustling noises in the bushes.

Ahead of us, we hear Cilantro scream. Peetal and I burst into a new clearing to see that a huge tunnel has been dug right into the dirt. It was cut at a slant, and the ground is all torn up. I can just see the pitch-dark tunnel disappearing into the earth at my feet.

"She was going so fast… and she just disappeared!" Cilantro wailed, and collapses to her knees..

I walk closer to the tunnel for further inspection.

"Whoa!" I say. "She was going so fast her feet tore the ground up until she made a tunnel!"

Peetal only says, "That's fast."

I walk down into the tunnel. There's a tiny plaque on the dirt wall, bearing the word 'tImbuKtu.'

"Look at this!" I say. "She dug a tunnel to Timbuktu!"

"Soxface?" Peetal calls down the tunnel. "Hey! It echoes! ECHO! ECHO!"

I slap Peetal's shoulder. "Stop it! Where's Cilantro?"

We walk out of the tunnel to see Cilantro laying on the ground, fast asleep.

"Huh," I say. "Be quiet, Peetal. We don't want to wake her up. She might incapacitate us."

Peetal yawns and rubs his eyes. "I'm sleepy, too, Katnit."

"Okay, okay," I say. "Let's go find a place to sleep."

And so, walking away from the tunnel, Peetal's one hand in mine and the other in his mouth, we find a nice hard rock to cushion our heads on as we fall asleep again.

...

**A/N **Meh. Shortie chapter. My apologies. :)

Oh, and I would just like to say that reviews are, as always, greatly appreciated. After... I don't know, Chapter five? I got half as many reviews. Less, actually. Either my story got tragically horrible all of a sudden, or... well, I don't know. Seriously, though, if you just review with a comma or something, I'll be overjoyed. Dude, I'll LOVE commas. :)

Well, that's the end of my mini-schpeel. Hope you enjoyed.

*cough* Reviews are greatly appreciated. ;D


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

"No, stop, no!" Peetal screams. "I'm not supposed to talk to strangers!"

I bolt up. I had been carefully making a grass tower, idling away. In my haste to get to Peetal I accidentally knock it over. Shoot!

"Peetal?" I call, pushing aside branches as I walk through the woods. He had been going to find food. How hard could it be?

"STAY AWAY—you're too close!" Peetal hollers, and I walk around a willow to see him crouched in a martial-arts pose, trying to fend off the man standing before him with a megaphone. The man steps forward, and Peetal leaps forward, screaming.

"Chill, kid!" the man says, sticking the big end of his microphone over Peetal's head. He turns to me.

"I'm supposed to tell you that there's a feast in the arena," the guy coughs. "You have something on your nose."

I reach up to my nose to feel the hard concoction of glue, crunched leaves, and sap I used as a makeshift blackhead cleanser. My mother made some for me back at home, and I wasn't sure if I got the recipe exactly right, but since my nose was kinda burning I figured it must be working pretty well.

"Oh!" I say, and turn away, trying to pull it off. Problem is, it wouldn't budge. "Um, well, thanks! Bye!"

We always have our announcers come into the arena to personally tell us about feasts and to kick off the start of the Games. This rule was made because many of the female tributes (and a couple of the males as well) though our former announcer was 'super-cute,' and they pushed for the Games to be more Capitol-interactive. But this time, our announcer was ugly so it didn't really matter anyways.

Peetal grows at the announcer as he removed his megaphone from Peetal's head and walks off into the woods. I keep attempting to try to remove my blackhead cleanser. It sure worked its magic—it feels like it's pulling blackheads out of my nose that haven't even formed yet.

Peetal relaxes his martial arts position and turns around to face me. Suddenly he screams. "Ah! What's that on your face?" he shrieks.

"What? Where?" I tap my forehead and cheeks.

"On your _nose!_" he cries.

"Oh!" I say. "That's my blackhead remover." I tear off a corner of my homemade gunk, along with about five layers of skin. "Youch."

Peetal cringes.

"Hey! Let's go get some food at the feast!" I suggest.

We collect our gear from where we slept that night and start hiking for the Cornucopia. On the way there, I find a few good sticks to try and pry my blackhead gunk off. None of them work. In fact, they snap under the pressure. Meanwhile, Peetal talks my ear off about this new book series that apparently Cinna introduced him too—it's called _Daylight _or something.

"Cinna took me up on the roof one night," he tells me. "And gave me these four pretty black books, and told me I would just LOVE them. And I do, Katnit! I do!"

When we arrive at the Cornucopia, Cattle is just sending off two tributes with a bundle of food. "Good luck!" he calls. "Enjoy the food!" Cattle stands at a table piled high with food. He smiles at us as we approach. I think he must've decided for forgive me for escaping him that one time that he captured me. What a nice boy he is.

Peetal is still talking about his books. "I'm Team Edward, Katnit! Which team are you on?"

"Um… I don't know," I say absentmindedly, coming up to the table and looking over the food.

"What?" Peetal yelps, and I receive a puffy tap on the head from his corn husk doll. "You have to be on a team! I'm Team Edward."

I pick up a loaf of bread and glance up at Cattle, wanting to make sure it's okay that I take it. I mean, I don't want to be rude. With my other hand, I inconspicuously hide my nose from him. "Do you mind if I ta—" I begin.

But Cattle has stopped dead, staring at Peetal. Peetal notices and cowers under his gaze.

"What?" he Cattle says quietly. "Say that again."

"What?" Peetal says. "I can't remember what I said!"

"He said he was Team Edward!" I say impatiently. "Mind if I have this, Cattle?"

Cattle stands, simply pushes me and the table aside, and steps up to Peetal. Then he gives a giggle and punches Peetal. It's a playful punch, but Peetal still falls over.

"Nuh-UH!" Cattle cries. "Jacob is better!"

Peetal leaps up. "Nuh-UH!"

"Fine," Cattle says. "Look, there's only one way to decide who's really the best. Here's what we'll do. We're going to have..." He pauses. "A violent, bloody… verbal battle."

Peetal puffs out his chest and sticks out his hand. "I accept," he says proudly.

Cattle pulls out a whistle and black-and-white striped shirt out of his backpack and tosses it to me. "Put this on," he tells me brusquely. "You're starting us off."

I put it on backwards so that the word 'REF' on the back is visible. "Are you guys ready?" I say, as Cattle and Peetal positions themselves on the ground, cross-legged and facing each other. Cattle warms up with some voice exercises.

"Yes," Peetal says delicately.

"BRING IT!" Cattle roars.

I blow my whistle, and they begin.

"You may go first," Cattle allows.

"Excellent," Peetal says. "First of all, I'm Team Edward because he matches with Bella according to height—their hair matches too, and they have a certain deep connection that can't be matched by any—"

"Jacob's 100 times better," Cattle snorts.

"Edward's 200 times better," Peetal shoots back.

"Jacob's ONE MILLION times better."

"Edward's fifty pa-jillion times better!"

"Jacob's better times infinity!"

"Dang it!" Peetal shrieks. "Katnit, what's higher than infinity?"

I think. "Um… infinity plus one?"

"INFINITY PLUS ONE!" Peetal cries triumphantly.

"INFINITY PLUS INFINITY!" Cattle screams, and pumps his fist. "Blow the whistle, Katnit! I clearly won!"

Peetal leaps up. "No you didn't!" He aims a kick at Cattle's stomach, but Cattle lifts up his can of hot cocoa from the feast table and Peetal kicks it instead. Then Cattle pokes Peetal in the forehead with a pudgy finger, who promptly falls over.

I rush forward, tweeting my whistle. "Verbal fight!" I call. "This is a _verbal fight!_" But Cattle has drawn his sword and stands over Peetal, laughing. He brings the sword down on Peetal's leg.

Peetal screams in pain. Then he passes out.

I run forward, blowing my whistle furiously at Cato. "You!" _Tweet. _"Meanie!" _Tweet._ "He's got!" _Tweet._ "Sensitive skin!"

Cattle turns to me, raising his sword. Then suddenly he drops his sword and grabs at his calf, swatting a bee off.

"Oh, geez!" he says, batting at the bee and hopping away. "I'm allergic!" He ducks and jumps and does a couple of dive rolls to avoid the bee. Finally, he disappears into the forest, still swatting and leaping and yelping whenever the bee tries to land on him. "Ah! Ooh! Allergic! Where's my EpiPen?"

The moment Cattle disappears I drop down next to Peetal, and dig around in my pack until I find a can of chicken noodle soup I snuck into the bag when Cattle was preparing for the verbal battle. My mother said that chicken noodle soup always made people feel better, and I hoped she was right. So I used my teeth to stab a few holes in the top, and then let it leak onto Peetal's leg, and onto the gash Cattle's sword left in the pants. I would have taken Peetal's pants right off to get a good look at his wound, but he was wearing skinny jeans and I didn't think I had that kind of skill. So I just poured the soup on the fabric gash so it would soak into whatever damage Cattle did with his sword.

Halfway through the can of soup, pus starts running out of the gash in his pants. I allow myself a shiver, a shudder, and a "Disgusting!" before returning to pouring the soup.

I've just finished pouring the soup on Peetal's pants when he stirs. Immediately, I fling my can aside and kneel at his head. "Peetal!" I say, slapping his face lightly. "Peetal!"

He stirs. "Come to finish off my Fruit Gushers, cutie-patootie?" he mumbles blearily. He reaches a hand down to the gash in his pants, feeling the damage.

"Oh, no!" he says, trying to sit up. He pulls a smushed pack of Fruit Gushers from his pants. The bag has been split open and a few crushed Gushers spill out, oozing the gooey stuff inside.

"Oh!" I say "_That's_ the pus!"

"No," Peetal says. "Those are my Fruit Gushers!"

"Wait!" I say. "Peetal, are you even hurt?"

Peetal sits up, and swings his arms around and wiggles his toes. "Um, no. Well, yes. Very hurt that Cattle pushed me over. But other than that, I think I'm fine."

This is when it starts to rain. Peetal and I pull our gear and the food from the feast table into the Cornucopia to wait out the storm. Peetal's still mourning the loss of his Fruit Gushers, but at least Cattle didn't give him a scratch.

I make a huge meal out of all the food from the feast and lay it out. Peetal whines for something to drink, so I pour some hot cocoa mix into my hand, stick it out into the downpour to turn it into hot—I mean, cold—chocolate, then quick dump it in Peetal's open mouth. Then I shove a bag of dried fruit at him and tell him that's his dessert, because I hate dried fruit. Then I discreetly open a bag of chocolate in my lap and sneak it when Peetal's not looking.

"Katnit?" Peetal asks, digging through the fruit bag. "When will it stop raining?"

"I don't know, Peetal."

"Katnit?" Peetal asks, five minutes later. "How do you spell 'appendix?'

"A-P-P-E-N-D-I-C-K-S, Peetal."

"Katnit?" Peetal asks again. "When's breakfast?"

"In the morning, Peetal! Now shut up and eat your pears."


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

"Katnit? Katnit!" I feel Peetal's bony elbow nudge me. "Kaaaatnit?"

I groan. "_What_, Peetal?"

"_Look!_"

I rip my sleeve out of Peetal's grasp and follow his finger. A trail of colored mini marshmallows lead off into the woods. Peetal crouches down, picks up a blue one, and pops it into his mouth.

"Peetal!" I scold. "They could be poisonous, spit them out!"

He chews and swallows. "No, they're just mini marshmallows. Don't be silly, Kat!" Peetal picks up another one. "Would you like one?"

"No!" I cringe away.

"Okay," he says reasonably, tossing it into his mouth. He thinks for a moment, watching the marshmallow trail. "We should follow the trail, Katnit! Like in _Hansel and Gretel_."

"What? That's a terrible idea! What if it's a trap?" I say.

Peetal laughs. "Who would set a trap for us? The tributes are nice. When I come near them, they always laugh at me. It's my great jokes, I just know it." Peeta clasps his hands and does his puppy-eye routine until I cave in.

" F_iiiii_ne, Peetal," I huff. "Let's go."

Peetal rushes ahead of me, looking a little silly because he's bent in half, trying to scoop up all the mini marshmallows. When his fists are full, he shoves both piles into his mouth and starts collecting again. He must have a lot of practice eating these, because he barely chews before swallowing it all. In between bites, he tells me marshmallow jokes.

"Hey, Katnit, did you hear about the guy who dreampt he was eating a marshmallow? When he woke up, his pillow magically disappeared!" Peetal bursts into maniacal laughter, and shoves more marshmallows into his mouth. "Hey, Katnit, did you know that if you're naughty all you get for Christmas is colored mini marshmallows? It's snowman poop!"

We follow the marshmallow trail for an hour. I think it loops back a few times, but since I haven't been paying attention and the marshmallow evidence is gone I can't tell for sure. By using a combination of the angle of the sun in the sky and my expert guesstimating skills, I decide we're headed for the area where Flue fell into the quicksand.

"I think we're headed for the area where Flue fell into the quicksand," I inform Peetal, who only nods because he's just stuffed a new marshmallow pile into his mouth.

But when we finally emerge from the woods, still following the Great Marshmallow Trail, as I have christened our walk, we are in the clearing with the Cornucopia.

I see a blurry figure in the corner of my eye and turn to see Cattle barreling toward us, an empty marshmallow bags loaded with rocks in his hands, screaming a fierce battle cry. But his battle cry quickly turns to a shriek of alarm as a rock falls out of his bag and he trips on it, and then turns to howls of agony as he falls to the ground and lands on the rock.

Peetal is so surprised he swallows too many marshmallows and begins to choke. He gurgles my name and clutches at his throat.

Cattle rolls over and gets up. "Oh, just wait," he snaps, and starts to give Peetal the Heimlich maneuver. "This won't take long. I learned it on Sponge Bob."

Cattle gives a grunt as his fist push on Peetal's stomach, and the marshmallows come flying out of his mouth and Peetal collapses to the ground, gasping.

Cattle rolls his eyes and turns to pick up his rockshmallow bag.

"So it's you again, you disgusting gloobery bucket of…" I struggle for an adequate finish to my insult. "Of stuff. I mean, _so_ gross." I give myself a 9/10 on my insult.

Cattle snarls at me, stepping on Peetal's stomach as he walks closer to me. I couldn't blame him—I had squirted on some _Sweet Pea _body spray this morning. Cattle calls me a lot of words I don't know—but I've never had a very high reading level so I can still pretend that they were compliments.

"Thank you," I say. "Now what was all this for?" I gesture to the marshmallow trail, the purple Peetal on the ground gasping for breath, and his rockshmallow bag.

Cattle steps so close to me that I have to crane my neck to see him—he's pretty tall. "I want all your items," he says menacingly. "Give them to me."

"I don't have any," I say, assuming the expression I use when Gill and I play poker. It's called a Poker Face.

I almost fall over as Cattle presses in on me. "Are you sure?"

I pretend to think. "Um, yep. I don't have any." Except for Cilantro's hair, the cyborg's toe, Flue's shoe, Soxface's sock, Peetal's hair, the orange traffic cone, and the _Slim Jim_.

Cattle deflates, stepping away and onto Peetal's stomach again. "Oh," he says "Nevermind then."

I help Peetal up, who's trying to brush the footprint off his chest.

Cattle looks at us hopefully, and changes tactics. "Would you like to make an alliance? We can help each other find some items!"

I narrow my eyes at Cattle. "My current ally and I need to confer about this." I drag Peetal a little ways into the forest.

"So, Peetal, what do you think?" I ask him.

"Well, Cattle's got a pretty big foot but my mom should be able to get the mud stain out with her—"

"No, not your shirt! Cattle's alliance offer! Should we make an alliance?"

"Oh. I don't know." Peetal continues to scrub at his shirt. I smack his hand away.

Suddenly I hear I high, piercing scream. It's Cattle. I groan, and start for the sound of his voice. "Come on, Peeta," I say with a sigh, and head back to the plain.

About fifteen yards from the Cornucopia, Cattle is feverishly loading his rockshmallow bag with more rocks.

"Katnit! Peetal!" he calls. "The muttations!" He points to the edge of the forest only a short distance from where we came out and I see two silhouettes. The first shape is very small, and the second one is large and square. Without pausing to think, I run for the Cornucopia. I leap onto the bottom and scale it, hearing Cattle coming up behind me. I feel safer higher in the air. Like a bird, maybe a mockingjay. When I find my footing on the top, I realize Peetal has started running for the mysterious figures on the edge of the forest.

"Peetal, stop, no!" I scream, cupping my hands around my mouth.

I can't hear him exactly, but what he says sounds vaguely like "Kitty!"

The mysterious figures draw nearer, and Cattle and I see that it is in fact a kitty, along with a massive stand-up chalkboard on wheels. I hear Peetal squeal as he rushes forward to pet the kitty. It all happens very fast then.

The small, orange kitten lunges out, and even from here I see the flash of sun off of its sharp claws. It strikes out, and Peetal goes down, screaming like a tortured banshee. I've never actually heard a tortured banshee scream, but it sounds pretty bad.

"Peetal!" I scream desperately, but stay on the Cornucopia because I don't want to be minced by a cat.

Peetal rolls over, holding up his corn husk doll with a huge slash down it's backside. "The rhinestones! They all came off, and you sliced open its butt!"

"Peetal, run!" I holler again, because the cat is advancing. I see that a cord of some kind connects the cat's back paw to the chalkboard, so that it moves right along with the cat. The cat pads up to Peetal, lifts a claw, and then turns and scratches its sharp nails down the chalkboard beside it.

Peetal, Cattle and I all cringe and cover our ears. From out of the woods come more cats, dragging along their chalkboards. Peetal has leaped off the ground and starts pounding for the Cornucopia when he remembers his corn husk doll. But as he turns back, a cat pounces on the poor doll and started to tear chunks out of it.

"Nooooo!" Peetal screams, starting to turn back.

"Peetal!" I cry. "Come on!"

Peetal rushes over, but has trouble climbing the Cornucopia so I have to grab his hands and pull him right over the top of it, his skin squeaking painfully on the gold as he comes up.

"Sorry," I apologize as he stands and gets his footing. In that moment I am struck by how stunning Peetal looks, a single tear sliding down his cheek, creating a shining path through the dirt caked on his cheek, that pimple on his nose that can almost be qualified as a second head, the small bit of white fluff on his eyebrow. I repress a sigh.

_Thud_. I turn to see Cattle had slid off the Cornucopia and is making a break for the woods, running as fast as his short sausage feet can carry him. Several cats streak towards him, chalkboards rattling along behind them, and the one in the lead leaps onto Cattle's backpack, tearing it open. The rest jump onto Cattle's jeans, his shirt, his head, and the chalkboards tied to their legs all collide and converge right where Cattle is standing.

There are yowls and shrieks, and I'm not sure whether they come from cat or man. But when the finallycats back away, there is an enormous hole in the ground and Cattle is gone. One cat digs its paws through Cattle's backpack, the only thing that remains, and produces a jug of milk, which it knocks over and starts to lap up with its tongue. Peetal and I watch in horror as the rest follow suit.

When the cats have finished drinking all the milk from the jug, they stretch and start dragging their chalkboard away, meowing softly. They disappear into the woods on the far side of the plain.

The moment the last one is out of sight, Peetal faints and topples right off the Cornucopia.

"Peetal!" I cry, sliding down the side to his crumpled figure. "Are you all right?"

"_Congratulations to the last two contestants of the Hunger Games!_" A voice cries from far overhead. Our announcer. "_Just a reminder that the first contestant to find all ten items, plus the Special Crown of Wonder will be our winner! Thank you, and good luck._"

Peetal stirs. "Are we really the last ones left?" he slurs, opening his eyes blearily.

"I think so," I say, and turn to him. His head is half-hidden under the curve of the Cornucopia, and I try to help him up. He hits his head, hard, on the gold surface.

"Owww—hey!" he says, and lays back down to stare up at the Cornucopia. "Look! It's all bumpy."

I lay down next to Peetal and look up at the Cornucopia's surface. There is a small ridge the shape of a circle, coming up in little points. It's completely soldered to the otherwise smooth surface.

Peetal giggles. "It looks like a crowwwwn!"

A crown. I gasp.

"Peetal!" I say in a hushed whisper. "It's the _Special Crown of Wonder!_"

And it's attached to the Cornucopia.

...

**A/N **I've been a terrible updater, I know. But I will finish this story (it's really almost over... only two or three more chapters, guys!). I am doing NaNoWriMo-starting in 9 days! EEK!- so that might mean that updates are spread even further apart. In a perfect world, I'll get out another chapter before Nov. 1st, but you never know. Anyways, thanks to everyone who's still reading and reviewing. I really appreciate it, it means a lot to me that you like to read my sillyness. ;D


	12. Chapter 12

Peetal reaches out and tries to pry the crown off the Cornucopia, without success. He drops his hands, forlorn.

"Katnit!" he whines. "What do we do?"

Suddenly there is a rumble of thunder, and I feel raindrops start to fall. One falls on my face, right on the tip of my nose. I lick it off.

A gust of wind sweeps by, stinging my eyes. Peetal screams, terrified, as lightning streaks across the sky and thunder booms. He clutches my shirt.

"It's okay." I tell him. "God is just bowling, Peetal."

The Gamemakers have never been subtle people. One second the sun will be shining, birds and chirping, and people are dying. The next second the sky is stormy, the wind is howling, and people are still dying.

Really, they're almost too predictable.

Around us, the wind is picking up and swirling faster and faster around us. Peetal clutches tighter to my shirt and buries his head in my stomach—which can't be comfortable, I have rock-hard abs.

Flecks of rain pelt my face harder, and I can't see anything but Peetal and the Cornucopia and the _Special Crown of Wonder! _beside us. But then, almost as soon as it came, the swirling winds dies down, revealing a totally new scene. A gray, foggy world. The field and forest around us have disappeared, and I poke Peetal until he withdraws his head from the concave wonder that is my stomach.

"Peetal!" I said. "Look!"

He peers around, then looks over my shoulder and screams.

"What?" I turn. When did that mountain get there? In the absence of… more forest, a huge, hulking gray mountain floated in the mist.

All Peetal could do was stare pathetically back and forth at he mountain and the _Special Crown of Wonder!_ "What do we do now?" he asked me. But he had stuck his head back in my stomach and it sounded like "Wawee hoo how?"

"We climb the mountain, Peetal," I said. "With the _Special Crown of Wonder!_" Resolved, I stood—knocking Peetal into a somersault and leaving him lying on his back, legs curled in the air—and decided how best to pry the Crown away from the Cornucopia. Here's what I tried:

Pushing

Pulling

Prying

Smashing

Swearing

Pleading

Kicking

Crying

Tantrum-throwing

I think I loosened it a bit, but I can't be sure. As I left the Cornucopia with my dignity to go cry at the foot of the mountainside, I felt Peetal lay a hand on my foot and pat it.

"There, there," he said softly. "We'll just push it, Katnit."

I look at him incredulously. "Push it. The whole thing?"

"Sure, why not?" He smiled, and as he pushed himself up I saw muscles bulging under his shirt. "We can manage it."

Twenty minutes later, it became clear that we could not manage it—and that the muscles I saw rippling on Peetal's arm was just food he had stuffed up his sleeves in case he got hungry.

Currently, I was pulling the Cornucopia from the front and Peetal was pushing on it from the back. With some rope we had found stuck in the point of the horn, we had tied it around the Cornucopia so it would be easier for me to pull. Every twenty minutes or so, I would shout "You okay, Peetal?" And he would reply with a moan or a groan. Lately he'd been replying with intelligible words, and I grew suspicious. I turned around…

To see him sitting in the Cornucopia, pulling apples from his shirt and munching on them.

"Peetal!" I shrieked. "You're supposed to be helping?"

He looked up at me with puppy-dog eyes as apple juice dribbled down his chin. "What about lunch break?"

I tried to coax Peetal out of the Cornucopia through a variety of ways:

Screaming

Yelling

Sweet-talking

Kicking

Hiding (It made him feel scared and alone, but wasn't enough to draw him out.)

Scavenger hunts

Pole-dancing (I had to use a very thin tree. This failed; it only terrified him more.)

Apple-throwing

Pretending-to-let-go-of-the-rope

Fake-tipping over the Cornucopia

All of these failed, and eventually I was left to continuing the long walk up the mountain with Peetal in the Cornucopia. He was starting to feel safer now that I had tried my best to get him to help and failed.

"Mush!" he yelled, and threw an apple core at my back. It missed; he's an awful shot.

"Peetal!" I screamed, jerking on the rope. "Stop that!" He moaned and threw himself backwards onto the wall of the Cornucopia with a loud, clanging noise, and then moaned once more in pain. I stooped, picked up a pinecone, and chucked it over my shoulder.

"Potty break!" he yelled, about twenty minutes later.

"No, Peetal," I said defiantly. "I'm the one working here, I'll call the shots."

But as it turned out; Peetal's bladder was the one calling the shots. After he leapt off and raced into the woods, I was forced to wait for him.

With each passing minute, the peak of the mountain seemed farther and farther away—I was going to collapse from fatigue. Actually, not really. But it makes me sound more attractive—a brave heroine dragging her not-so-brave, heavily snoring companion up the mountain side.

As I listened to Peetal breathing—which cut off occasionally to deep gurgles, making me wonder if he had that one nasal disease (I'd check that out later)—I tried to make the motions of walking up the mountain so instinctual that I could take a nap as I walked.

It almost worked; I drifted off, but then tripped over an acorn and fell to the ground as the Cornucopia started to slid backwards. I woke up when Peetal started shrieking.

That night, Peetal and I curled up in a sleeping bag we found wedged into a corner of the Cornucopia. After I zipped us uncomfortably in, I broke apart some weird leaves that looked weirdly edible and split them between Peetal and I. He took a bite and spit them back in my face, but I didn't mind them.

"That was gross, Katnit…"

"That's all you're getting!"

Peetal had to resolve to chewing on a corner of the sleeping bag, while I took a pack of Juicy Fruit out of my pocket and snuck it into my mouth while he was sniveling. I never shared my gum. Sharing was a sign of weakness.

Peetal quickly fell asleep against my side, his head nestled in my armpit and his hot breath conveniently blowing my bangs out of my face. Foolishly, I fell asleep soon afterward.

It was a bad idea.

Here is a list of the things I should've been concerned about:

Remaining tributes

Spiders crawling into my mouth

Peetal stealing my gum

Spiders crawling into Peetal's mouth

The next morning, Peetal and I were awoken by the sound of trumpets playing, and the sound of a loud voice shushing them.

"No, no, stop, you fools! Nobody's won yet!"

I nudged Peetal and he jerked upright, spitting some fluff from the sleeping bag out of his mouth. When he saw me, he squealed, retreating deep into the covers. I lifted to my hands warily to feel that a huge zit had popped up on my face that night.

Darn it. The Capitol had confiscated my Proactiv, so I resolved to keep a hand over my face to detract from the second head developing on my nose.

"To the remaining tributes of the Games!" the loud voice had cried. I recognized it as Clyde Churchpith. "If you're listening, know that you're one of the last three in the Games!"

Announcers often showed up at the final three to give tributes a heads-up. They used to do fake cannon-fire noises, until some newbie thought they meant real cannons, and killed a tribute on accident.

He got decapitated, but that's another story.

"You may have noticed a change in the arena," Clyde said smoothly. "That was due to a slight malfunction in the Gamemakers' control room. The person responsible has been taken in for a" –here he coughed— "cup of tea."

This was Capitol code for 'we decapitated him.'

"Either way, continue playing as normal, and remember that the _Special Crown of Wonder_! is needed to win, as well as ten items taken from individual tributes. Thank you."

With a loud burst of static, Peetal and I were left in silence. I realized I had momentarily forgot to cover my pimple and jerked my hand back up again, startling Peetal. I turned away and squirmed out of the suitcase, knocking him on the head on accident.

"Get up!" I said, stumbling to my feet and fluffing my hair. In the arena, I had been going for a rockin' beehive hairdo, or at the very least something similar to those feathered bangs they wore in the ancient days. But after they both failed, I had been sticking with the let-it-do-whatever-the-heck-it-wants-to-do-because-you-don't-have-a-comb-anyways style.

Peetal and I played an intense game of Paper, Scissors, Rock to see who would do the Cornucopia pulling for the morning.

He lost, all seven times (because he chose rock, every time, and then couldn't figure out why I kept winning), but threw enough of a fit that I finally let him sit in the Cornucopia and I pulled up the ropes.

As I dragged the Cornucopia up the mountain again, with Peetal humming idly to himself behind me, my list of Worries-I-Should've-Been-Worried-About came into play. Just to refresh your memory:

Spiders crawling into Peetal's mouth

Spiders crawling into my mouth

Peetal stealing my gum

Remaining tribute

First, a spider fell on top of my head and toppled into my open mouth as I walked along, and fifteen minutes later I had to tie the Cornucopia to a tree to console Peetal when he accidentally ate an apple that happened to be occupied by a spider.

An hour later, I reached into my pocket to find my pack of gum missing.

And around late afternoon, we had an unfortunate encounter with the remaining tribute.

...

**A/N **All right, so here's the story. The reason I haven't updated since late October:

I got into a terrible car crash, went into a coma, and just woke up yesterday. I'm perfectly fine, but the first thing I said when I awoke was 'Get me a pen and paper. I need to write my next update.'

HA!

No. That's not true. The last seven words were true, but all the rest is baloney. Anyways, I'm sorry for the freakishly long wait. I'm a huge procrastinator, and I'm sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry. I'm not even sure if anyone's been waiting on this chapter, but I do know I've gotten some reviews during my long absence. So, like, whoa. People are still finding my story, reading it, and bothering to review. That's what pretty much made me get my crap together and get out another chapter.

This is seriously hot off the press. I just finished it, and haven't even bothered to edit it. That's because I'm lazy, but you already knew that. I may edit later, but if you see any dumb, glaringly obvious mistakes, just lemme know.

Anyways, enjoy. You can shame me in reviews for being a horrible updater, if you want. Do it, actually. I may update faster.

This story will. Be. Finished.

SIDE NOTE: Oh, and my friends and I made a blog. If you'd like to see some dumb stuff, check it out. dingpoproth (dot) blogspot (dot) com. We made it yesterday, so it has nothing on it but 1 post, two pictures, and the lyrics of a beastly song, but we're just getting started. I'f you're dying of boredom, go check it out. Even so I can just see the viewing stats go up. LOL.


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